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WAYS AND DAYS 
OUT OF LONDON 



I#*^ 




WAYS AND DAYS 
OUT OF LONDON 



BY 
AIDA RODMAN DE MILT 



ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS 
MADE BY THE AUTHOR 



NEW YORK 
THE BAKER & TAYLOR COMPANY 

1910 



COPYKIGHT, 1910, BY 

THE BAKER & TAYLOR COMPANY 



Published, October, 1910 






\ 



\ 



THE TEOW PRESS, NEW YOBK 



C!,A2738''4 



TO 
SON I A 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAQB 

I. — An Introduction to Hampton Court 1 
II. — ^The Thames from Maidenhead to 

Staines 14 

III. — Rainham and Rochester ... 34 

IV. — Royal Ascot 57 

V. — Kew Gardens and Richmond . . 67 

VI. — By Coach to Guildford ... 79 

VII.— Ely 102 

VIII. — Cambridge 116 

IX. — Stoke Poges, Burnham Beeches, 

Eton, and Windsor . . . .137 

X. — St. Albans 159 

XI. — ^The Henley Regatta and Down the 

Thames to Maidenhead . . 181 
XII. — Epping Forest, Waltham Abbey, 

Waltham Cross and Temple Bar 203 

XIII. — Dulwich and Crystal Palace . 221 

XIV. — Colchester 248 

XV. — By River to Hampton Court . . 266 

XVI. — Greenstead 284 

XVII.— Greenwich . . . . . .297 

XVIII. — Dunstable and Fenny Stratford . 334 

XIX. — Canterbury 357 



VII 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING 



CHAPTER 



Putney Bridge . Frontisjnece in Color 

I. — At fifteen minutes after six we entered 

the Lion Gates 8 

Under the trees a houseboat was moored 12 

II. — A group of boatmen chatted in the 

noon's hot sun 20 

They must be suffragettes glorying in 
the subjugation of man ... 24 

Our first glimpse of Windsor's towers 
seemed like a vision of Valhalla . 28 

The keynote of the river is rest . 32 

III. — The castle and cathedral were at Roch- 
ester just across the Medway . 36 

We caught a refreshing glimpse of 
broad shady lawn .... 40 

Children were feeding a flock of pigeons 48 

Happily there was much beyond the 
reach of their long arms . 52 

IV. — We passed Staines and the train crossed 

the Thames 60 

They drove in beside the Royal En- 
closure 64 

V. — Who would be interested in a palace 
when they could roam in such a gar- 
den? 69 

ix 



I Illustrations 

KACINO 
CHAPTEB FAQB 

Wondering whether we were on Chol- 
mondely Walk 72 

Why do they carry so many extra tires? 78 

The river bent Hke a silver bow . 78 

VI. — Horses were changed at the Fox-and- 

Hounds at Surbiton .... 88 

And now we were driving down the 
steep High Street of Guildford . . 94 

We set forth to view the square keep 
of Guildford's Castle .... 99 

Vn. — The delicate curves of the carven stone 

stairway leading to the organ loft 105 

The beauty of the "only Gothic dome in 
existence" 110 

At the bottom of the street a canal-like 
river proved to be the Ouse .112 

The present peace is the more palpable 
because of what has been .115 

VHL— At last a market day! . . .116 

Clare's bridge was set in a glory of green 124 

King's gateway is more eloquent of 
King Hal than of Edward IV . 127 

We sank upon a bench where we could 
watch the tennis-playing . . . 132 

IX. — The traveler steps out of his landaulet 

before a tiny ivy-smothered lodge . 138 
From Gray the lych gate which he never 
saw had shut us out .... 141 



Illustrations xi 

FACINQ 
CHAPTXR PAGE 

Those hoary Burnham Beeches gnarled 
and knotted as any rheumatic gaffer 143 

To us the round tower was the most 
triumphant feature of the whole 
castle 152 

X. — We were so fickle as to become instantly 
enamored of sundry ancient timbered 
houses 160 

Of the abbey itself only the gateway 
remains 166 

A considerable fragment of Roman wall 
marks the boundary of Verulam 174 

" The Fighting Cocks " claims to be the 
oldest inn in England . , .179 

Across the river a row of houseboats 
was moored to the poplar-bordered 
shore 185 

XI. — One of the boats won the race 190 
Rafts loaded with punts returning from 

Henley 196 

Bisham Abbey backed by tall trees 199 

XII. — Where shadows at noontide spread twi- 
light 208 

Our gropings were indirectly the means 
of the day's most delightful dis- 
covery 215 

About the beautiful Eleanor Cross 
clusters a village 218 

We found the broad stone gate that had 
spanned the Strand .... 220 



xii Illustrations 

FACING 
CHAFTEB PAQE 

XIII. — White flanneled students were playing 

cricket in front of the college . 230 

At a place called Sydnam Wells much 
frequented in summer . . 242 

XrV. — One remains, the Balkon Gate . .251 

Delightfully incongruous was a motor 
wagon at the base of "King Cole's 
Castle" 255 

We came suddenly upon the Castle 260 

The best view of the herring-bone 
masonry 260 

XV. — The Bishops' Palace might be many 

miles from the roar of Bayswater Road 269 

A group of poplars seemed to have come 
forward to welcome us ... 272 

Twickenham's oft-sung Ferry is not 
doing a phenomenal business . . 276 

Stately are the avenues .... 282 
The lane dipped suddenly . . . 289 

XVI. — These sturdy Saxon timbers that have 

stood corner to corner a thousand years 293 

XVII. — The only portion of this house of magic 
that is brave enough to show its face 
to the public 309 

This great-hearted little fighter . 320 

Our last view of Greenwich Hospital 
was the best of all 331 



Illustrations xiii 

FACING 
CHAPTEB PAGE 

XVIII. — ^The gateway is all that remains of the 

old Priory 340 

Like a slender white arrow the great 
Roman road pointed northward 348 

The deep red of a bridge took on a 
deeper tone in its mirror, the canal 355 

XIX. — We spied the Cathedral beyond Mercery 

Lane 359 

A swift intake of breath; and then we 
both said "Oh!" 371 

The City Wall bends outward to avoid 
Dane John 379 

The most picturesque bit of architecture 
along the High Street .... 384 



AVAYS AND DAYS 
OUT OF LONDON 




CHAPTER I 

An Introduction to Hampton Court 

HAVE you been in London in May? 
Then you know how powerful is her 
enchantment, especially over strangers, how 
subtle the narcosis she instils. Stimulated at 
first by the novelty of her streets, her sounds, 
her splendid solemn restlessness, we gradually 
yield to her ineffable charm, her varying moods, 
her caprices that — unlike the sparkle of Paris 
or the sentiment of Venice — weave about us 
silken thread by silken thread a fabric of utter 
oblivion to all save the siren city herself. Yet 
a time comes when the strangers emerge from 
her thrall and memory revives of that long- 
forgotten desire to see the land which crystal- 
lizes in this leviathan London, sovereign city 
of the seas. Impatient of succumbing to the 
spell of the sorceress we strike out blindly, 
eager to escape from what seems now a verita- 
ble prison. But not^^dthstanding her dimin- 



2 Ways cmd Days Out of London 

ished charm she has us still enmeshed in strands 
that will not loosen. Continually baffled and 
beaten back, we almost yield again, when lo! 
the gate swings outward at a touch, and light- 
hearted we stride forth upon the open road 
into the infinite Beyond. 

" We cannot spare more than a week to 
London," Sonia had declared when we sat in 
our deck chairs conning the names of places 
which our random list stated to be indispens- 
able. 

Clovelly, Keswick, Chagford, Boston, 
Broadway.' Don't forget Lindisfarne and 
Malvern. I presume you have considered the 
relative positions on the map of these desid- 
erata? You are expecting, I infer, to explore 
the whole of that blessed British isle in three 
months." Thus Diana. 

" I hate maps ; but I love to travel. And 
distances are nothing in a land that is no bigger 
than our New England. We have enough of 
city life in New York; but we must keep our 
promise to Miranda and go first to London. 
Let us be very firm in our refusal if she tries 
to persuade us to stay there more than a 
week." 

Miranda met us at Paddington, and after 
tea she started with us on a hunt for lodgings, 
which were found just around the corner from 



An Introduction to Hampton Court 3 

her home and that of the Hanford-Burhams, 
where we remained — eleven weeks! 

Tourist London, we soon discovered, may 
be seen by whomsoever is sufficiently agile and 
eager, in a few days. The Tower, the Temple, 
the galleries, museums, and the Abbey were 
" done " and digested by us with a celerity and 
thoroughness quite amazing to our English 
friends. They had never strolled dream- 
ily through Cheyne Walk or thrilled with 
the memories that throng about Smithfield 
and Tyburn. They had always intended, 
they said, to see the Charter House some 
day, and perhaps St. Bartholomew's the 
Great. 

" How do you girls manage to find all these 
places?" they queried wonder ingly. 

" A map, several Bobbies, and a sufficient 
number of 'busses," was Diana's reply. 

Such excursions as these they captioned 
" sight-seeing." We gave to their term a 
wider significance which extended to private 
drawing-rooms, morning rides in the Row, 
afternoon drives in the Park when the Queen's 
carriage was to be seen. In fact, sight- 
seeing and London were synonymous, for 
there was always something of interest to be 
seen. 

As the bright days of early summer winged 



4 Ways arid Days Out of London 

away, that splendid show which is London 
during the Season — and only during the Sea- 
son — so filled and satisfied our souls that we 
forgot the glimpses of green uplands, silver- 
blue streams, and flowery fields which we had 
beheld with abundant enthusiasm in transit 
from steamer to metropolis ; forgot that we had 
that day deplored our promise to visit London 
and determined to shorten the visit in order 
that we might have leisure to enjoy the beauty 
of England's landscape, the quaintness of her 
tiny thatched villages, the charm of her cathe- 
drals and castles. The geraniums and daisies 
growing on countless window ledges in May- 
fair; the many parks and gardens, which 
seemed to verify the saying that nowhere in 
London is it impossible to see something green 
growing; even the aroma of the strawberry 
carts heaped with ruddy fruit, far from sug- 
gesting to us the loveliness without London, 
but heightened her charm, benumbing our 
spirits to the very existence of elsewhere 
delights. 

Where the pleasant little street called Red- 
cliffe Gardens ends at the Brompton Road a 
woman sits every day beside her cartload of 
flowers in the shade of the corner building. 
At first, hasting toward or from our lodgings 
we but glanced at the massed purples, yel- 



An Introduction to Hampton Court 5 

lows, crimson, or white, merely remarking: 
" Pretty, aren't they? " Gradually we passed 
more slowly. Then we lingered to admire, to 
be tempted, to possess ; and lo ! diurnal armf uls 
were henceforth borne home. One day our 
prim drawing-room would be dignified by 
bowls full of gold-brown wall flowers whose 
velvet faces and faint fragrance suggested 
walled gardens of which we had read and 
heard, but had not yet seen. Another day our 
fancy favored flame-red poppies. As the 
weather grew warmer we reminded each other 
that London was not the only place in Eng- 
land which offered enjoyable qualities; but 
such remarks made in half-hearted indiffer- 
ence produced no greater effect than the nar- 
ration of a dream. We gloated in the great 
roar of traffic along Piccadilly, in the cloop 
of hoofs on the wood-paved thoroughfares, in 
the color and clamor by day as in the sparkle 
and splendor by night. Yet a stimulus was 
stirring amid the London lethargy. The flow- 
ers in our rooms awoke thoughts of verdant 
fields, of blossoming hedgerows, of growing 
things. But even as we paused to discover 
these reminders our maid was on the pavement 
whistling for a cab whose approach tinkled a 
merry crescendo. At Lord's an inter-univer- 
sity game, with tea in Mrs. Somebody's tent, 



6 Ways and Days Out of London 

seemed so delightful as to be theatrically un- 
real. 

Silently, however, the leaven was becoming 
effective. It remained for the morrow's dozens 
of blue and yellow iris to achieve a tonic tran- 
sition. The rare privilege of an evening at 
home and alone supplied opportunity for sub- 
tle influences. Sonia sat at her writing table 
scribbling a message to a trans-oceanic INIan. 
Diana desultorily endeavored to disentangle 
an expense account wherein the multiplication 
and division of pounds, shillings, and pence 
proved somewhat disturbing. A motor bla- 
zoned its way through the quiet street; a dog 
barked sharply. A sudden whiff of wind dis- 
lodged a curtain, which caught a cluster of our 
golden iris in its uplift and scattered the flow- 
ers about us, whereat we displayed some annoy- 
ance. One flower had fallen on Sonia's letter ; 
another on Diana's lap. We gathered those 
that were on the floor and restored them all 
to the bowl from which they had been haled. 
Sonia brought her writing materials nearer to 
the flowers, whose aureate glow under a lamp 
irradiated the room. Dreamily she watched 
Diana's hands adjusting some of the purple 
iris among the golden blooms. A long silence 
enveloped us as we gazed into their pure 
hearts. The marvel of these ethereal yet 



An Introduction to Hanipton Court 7 

stately flowers possessed our spirits, guided 
them to green river banks where slender reeds 
vibrated to the undulous flow of current; 
where we heard amorous bird notes and 
glimpsed flashes of fleeting wings, while white 
swans floated languidly on the quiet waters 
and the aromatic air whispered: 

" Is London so fair that ye have no need 
of me?" 

Diana was the first to speak. " I accept 
the challenge," she said. 

"Were you thinking of that, too?" asked 
Sonia. " When the iris fell on my letter it 
seemed to say: ' I hereby challenge you to 
come and find me; to venture out of London 
into England.' " 

What was to be done? The town had sud- 
denly become obnoxious; we felt shackled, 
stifled within its walls. Before crossing the 
sea we had talked enthusiastically of moors 
and fens, of mountains and lakes. These 
could not yet be considered, for we were still 
bound by our promises to London. Mrs. 
Mawlbury's daughter was to be married to 
an M. P. at St. George's about the middle of 
July. Our engagement pad recorded many 
coming events which were too pleasant to be 
foregone, such as the Trooping of the Colors 
to celebrate the King's birthday, a horse show 



8 Ways and Days Out of London 

at Ranelagh, polo at Hurlingham, a reception 
at the embassy, and so on. Were there not 
beautiful places near London which could be 
visited on our free days? Then the silent 
whisper of the iris insisted: 

" The River; England's river." 

We had seen the Thames when we crossed 
its bridges or drove along the embankment; 
aye, had we not seen it this very day flowing 
muddily past the terrace of Westminster Pal- 
ace while we were drinking tea? We were 
capable of perceiving its charm as Whistler 
had depicted it from Seymour Haden's win- 
dow; yet why these delicate lily-like flowers 
should so insistently suggest the river we were 
unable to suppose. 

To resolve is facile; to do is difficult. We 
went to what we believed to be the fountain- 
head of information — our dear friends who had 
lived many years in London. Of them we 
asked : 

" What is there to see near London? " 

" Riclimond, my dears; and Windsor. 
Everybody — that is, everybody from your 
part of the world goes there." 

" We had thought of the river," tentatively 
suggested Diana. 

"They are both on the river; and so is 
Hampton Court. We have not been to Hamp- 




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An Introductio7i to Hampton Court 9 

ton Court in ages. If you are free this after- 
noon, let us all go. We could stop for you at 
five-and-twenty past three." 

" Is it so near, then? Can we go by 
boat?" 

" No," with a tolerant smile. " We shall go 
out by electric tram. You can see the river if 
you wish from the gardens." 

While Sonia and Diana were lunching to- 
gether in their rooms they voiced wonderment 
at so late a start. 

" It is a pity," said Diana, " to lose the early 
part of this fine afternoon." 

" There is no hurry here, you know. We 
left all that three thousand miles behind. The 
ways of these good people must be as good 
as ours; they have had longer opportunity to 
perfect them." 

This is how our English ladies " took " us 
to Hampton Court: a 'bus to the High 
Street, another to Hammersmith Broadway, 
whence a tram ambled out to Hampton Court. 
The route lay through a new and hideous section 
of London rife with odors, noise and swarms 
of unclean humans. In transit Sonia fre- 
quently consulted her watch the while she en- 
deavored to manifest an interest in certain 
almshouses and other public buildings to which 
her attention was directed. Diana discovered 



10 Ways and Days Out of London 

that she was weary of people. On Regent 
Street and Piccadilly, even in the great cen- 
ters, such as St. Paul's and the Bank, there had 
been an element of charm in the strong human 
tides. Here she saw with eyes unsealed. Was 
there no escape? As the tram hummed along 
its leisurely way London seemed to extend into 
the infinite beyond. The afternoon sun smote 
hotly upon us, as though taunting with sug- 
gestion of its sweetness where the earth is not 
stripped to make room for the herding of 
humans. 

Somewhat after five o'clock four women de- 
scended from the tram, two of them with a 
single thought — tea. The other two exchanged 
glances eloquent of dismay. We beheld an 
abundance of signs proclaiming the plural 
presence of this beverage; but the English 
ladies pronounced one place too stuffy, another 
unclean, a third too crowded. At fifteen min- 
utes after six we entered the Lion Gates. 
"The palace is closed at six," said a guard; 
" but the gardens may be seen until sun- 
down." 

Sonia looked at Diana with a shrug which 
said: " I told you so! " 

Diana's lifted brows and tightly drawn 
mouth replied: " We must bear it patiently." 

Once within the gardens, however, we felt 



An Introduction to Hampton Court 11 

compensated for much of our disappointment. 
Pausing to worship tall heliotrope freighted 
with fragrance or the gay-colored blooms along 
the borders of the Broad Walk, we forgot all 
but the intense pleasure of the moment. A 
background for these borders consisted of a 
high brick wall covered with roses. Brick, 
then, may be glorified ! Grassy vistas through 
tall shrubbery gave a series of surprises as we 
strolled about. Sometimes an avenue of limes 
led to a marble Venus pedestaled among scar- 
let geraniums. Anne Boleyn's Walk would 
be very lovely even were the romance of that 
sometime happy queen not added to its inter- 
est. By some it is now called Queen Mary's 
Bower. A pause for rest in a cool glade per- 
fected the sensuous impression produced by 
the loveliness of these gardens, the result of 
centuries of artistic study. An inquisitive 
thrush, perhaps fearful for the safety of his 
nestlings, inspected us carefully, and then pro- 
ceeded with his early-evening warblings. " I 
say, you know, it really is a pity you girls can't 
see the palace. You Americans always seem 
to be so fond of such things," said Miss He- 
bert. 

" The outside of it is very nice," affirmed 
Diana. " We shall come again. Where is the 
river f 



12 Ways and Days Out of London 

" Down that way. Phyllis and I will wait 
here until you return. Sight-seeing always 
makes me so tired." 

We paused to glance back at the warmly 
red facade of the palace on the one hand, green 
lanes peopled by white statues, glimpses of 
flower groups all but hidden under shrubbery ; 
on the other, broad lawns, black-green cedars 
whose level lines intensified the yellow-green 
of giant elms beyond. Hundreds of peaceable 
middle-class people were quietly enjoying the 
park. Following a group of these we soon 
found the river. Under the trees on the oppo- 
site bank a houseboat was moored. Swans 
paddled about; in a punt a woman in blue 
reclined among scarlet cushions while a man 
in white flannels poled the boat leisurely up- 
stream. We saw no golden iris; but we knew 
that we should find it; and if there had been 
any wavering in our previous resolve it van- 
ished at this moment. 

" You must see the Maze! " said our friends 
when we rejoined them. They knew the 
" key," and we followed the convolutions of 
the cedar hedge — that had formerly been horn- 
beam — more easily than the folk who screamed 
laughingly for aid. 

Somewhat after nine o'clock that evening 
we sat down to the cold mutton and salad 



An Introduction to Hampton Court 13 

which awaited our return, feeling far wiser 
than we had been at noon. 

" When M^e go to see Hampton Court," said 
Diana, " you and I shall go alone — by which I 
mean together. It now remains for us to 
ascertain how we can find a way out of Lon- 
don." 




CHAPTER II 

The Thames fro7n Maidenhead to Staines 

WHERE seek for the golden thread 
of information that would lead us 
through this labyrinthine London into the un- 
known region whose mysterious presence we 
burned to discover, perhaps the more eagerly 
because it modestly withheld all claims to con- 
sideration, content with the great city's abso- 
lute dominion? Perchance the breezy call of 
incense-breathing morn had long since ceased 
to be addressed to the town dwellers who mani- 
festly desired not to hear it until the calendar 
should indicate a certain date made sacred by 
custom, and whose ears were too dulled by the 
roar of the town to perceive a voice that could 
not outshrill the others. 

There were tourist agencies in plenty, all of 
which displayed highly colored posters pro- 
claiming the attractions of other lands. Of 

14 



From Maidenhead to Staines 15 

such we inquired, but learned chiefly that when 
tickets were not to be purchased from them, 
their " gratuitous information " was unobtain- 
able. Diana at length glowed with an idea. 
Not pausing to communicate it to her friend 
she plunged into the thickest of the traffic on 
the Edgware Road at Oxford Street and delib- 
erately picked her way until she stood beside 
a policeman who, with arm upraised to admon- 
ish an unruly cabman, did not immediately 
notice the feminine form waiting quietly at 
his side, while the distracted Sonia hovered on 
the curb certain of her friend's imminent de- 
struction. 

"Officer!" Diana said with a smile; "will 
you kindly direct me to the nearest railway 
station? " 

" Underground, miss, or chube? " 
" Something that goes out of London." 
A fleeting smile passed across his imperturb- 
able face ; but true to the traditions of his kind 
he was equal to the occasion. " Paddington is 
the nearest, miss ; that is, if you want the Great 
Western." 

" Thank you! I think that will do." She 
tripped back to the trembling Sonia, her face 
radiant with surety of something accomplished. 
Wondering as to her friend's purpose, skep- 
tical as to its probable efficacy, Sonia wisely 



16 Ways and Days Out of London 

refrained from interrogation until we alighted 
from a cab at Paddington Station. The great 
terminal offered no immediate assistance. 
There were porters, trains, hurrying passen- 
gers, and booking offices upstairs and down. 
Diana, somewhat bewildered, was testing a 
newly made principle : Never ask for informa- 
tion until you have used your eyes and ears in 
vain. She did not confess in this instance that 
she was not entirely sure what to ask for, 
should the proper source be disclosed. An in- 
clined platform near the left-luggage room 
looked hopeful. We ascended and found our- 
selves in the lobby of a hotel. Perhaps here we 
could find somebody who would tell us how to 
escape from London. Some porters were 
bringing in luggage. We saw a traveler, un- 
doubtedly British, approach a small window 
behind which sat a young woman who seemed 
incapable of perceiving him. He appeared to 
know what to do, and showed no symptom of 
haste. We hovered about watching for oppor- 
tunity. At length the young woman, stirred 
from her waking dream, opened the window 
which secluded her from the outer world just 
sufficiently to enable her ear to catch his few 
prayerful words whispered in prayerful atti- 
tude. Then she closed the window with care- 
ful deliberateness, withdrew to a far corner of 



From Maidenhead to Staines 17 

her apartment, where she solemnly consulted a 
ruddy-whiskered, frock-coated male and even- 
tually reopened the window a fraction of an 
inch, through which aperture she handed with 
lofty condescension to the silently grateful 
man a small paper disk in the center of which 
were some numbers. 

Supposing we had entered by mistake a 
charity institution, we hastened away from 
that cold-as-charity window to behold the 
Englishman briskly entering the lift. The 
porter waiting with his portmanteaux said to 
him: 

"What number, if you please, sir?" The 
traveler consulted his precious disk, and we 
knew the meaning of the pantomime we had 
beheld. 

Savory aromas had reached us from the din- 
ing room hard by. A glimpse of the cold buffet 
decided us to lunch here as the clock showed 
the hour to be almost two. Sonia proceeded 
into the room and was seated at a table before 
she discovered that she was alone. Knowing 
that her friend would not fail to follow, she 
waited; and presently Diana rejoined her, both 
hands full of small printed papers of various 
shapes and colors. 

" I saw a sign," she said, " which informed 
me that these were gratuitous to guests, so I 



18 Ways and Days Out of London 

availed myself of the privilege. Have you 
ordered? " 

We glanced over the handbills. " What to 
See in London " and " Visitors' Guide to Lon- 
don " were scornfully rejected. On a tiny 
green pamphlet which lay on the table, as yet 
unnoticed, Sonia glimpsed a few pictured pop- 
lars and a steamboat. 

" What is that little one? " 

" My dear, that is IT! " exclaimed the tri- 
umphant Diana. " ' Combination trips on 
G. W. R. and River Thames.' Here are doz- 
ens of them." 

At five minutes before ten on the following 
morning we were borne out of London which 
— like some gigantic monster having extended 
its tentacles farther than could have been sup- 
posed — suddenly let go, and, having passed 
out of the city, we found ourselves gliding 
through a landscape of surpassing loveliness 
which gave no hint of the nearness of the oc- 
topodian monster. The throng and tumult of 
the town had instantly given place to broad 
fields where poppies flamed among green oats, 
hedgerows glowed with roses, herds of fine cat- 
tle grazed in emerald pastures and long lines 
or groups of English elms made us think of 
Constable and Gainsborough. In this hour's 
ride from London to Maidenhead there had 



From Maidenhead to Staines 19 

been Dothing that was unlovely, nothing offen- 
sively commonplace, but so much of beauty 
that as the train slowed down at our station 
we agreed that however disappointing the river 
might be, this brief hour had been well worth 
the difficulties we had encountered in adventur- 
ing out from London. 

Our green pamphlet stated no time of de- 
parture from Boulter's Lock, which appeared 
to be the landing place for Maidenhead. We 
asked a porter and ticket collector at the sta- 
tion, both of whom were blankly ignorant. 
The latter was asked to direct us. 

" Stright down to the bottom of this road 
and turn to the left." 

The day was warm, but we are fond of walk- 
ing; and this sounded enticingly brief. Fear- 
ing, however, lest boat and train make close 
connection — the fear strengthened by several 
cabs hurrying down the street — we hastened 
on our way, looking vainly for bridge or river 
ahead. A boy, when questioned, told us to 
" turn to the right down there." A long per- 
spective of descending street, some of whose 
buildings appeared to be old, showed no prom- 
ise of river. We caught flashes of photographs 
and postcards in shop windows, but dared not 
pause to purchase or even to admire. Our light 
impedimenta became burdensome. At length, 



20 Ways and Days Out of London 

after a twenty-minute dash, we came to a road 
bearing leftward at whose beginning a sign 
directed to Boulter's Lock. In a moment the 
river drifting between green shores rewarded 
and refreshed us. The road led on indefinitely 
along the bank. An inn, whose pleasant little 
garden was filled with tables and chairs, caused 
Diana to turn aside. At the moment she 
stepped into the garden the landlord emerged 
from the house. He said the boat would not 
leave until twelve o'clock, and that the ladies 
would be most welcome if they desired to wait 
in the garden, from which they could see the 
steamer when she entered the lock, and then 
have ample time to go the short remaining dis- 
tance. This was good news and yet ill; for 
had we known that so much time was ours we 
might have lingered to admire the pleasant 
little town, and at this moment be less in need 
of the grateful shade of the inn's garden. 

A long row of punts lay quietly at the river's 
brink. A group of boatmen chatted in the 
noon's hot sun. The opposite shore presented 
masses of green which induced absolute rest- 
fulness. The graceful arches of Maidenhead's 
stone bridge, sentineled by lofty poplars, made 
a pleasing bit of drawing amid the color. In 
the opposite direction were high, wooded hills, 
the loveliest vision which had yet blessed our 













o 



o 



From Maidenhead to Staines 21 

town-weary eyes. So impatient were we to be 
on the river, now that we had found it, that we 
hired one of the ready boatmen to row us to the 
lock. He did more than this, the time being 
sufficient, and pulled the boat into the swift, 
foaming outflow from the weir where it rushes 
under an old mill, which he said was now part 
of a private residence. He also told us that 
the green hills which rose so high above us 
were Taplow Wood. The village nestling on 
the opposite shore gave to this wood its pleas- 
ant name. In the lock now lay our steamer, 
small, black, rather graceful. There was an 
upper deck exposed to the sun; forward and 
aft smaller decks were sheltered with awnings. 
We found ample space in the bow. Immedi- 
ately the gates swung outward the boat, with- 
out a throb or sound, glided down the river 
under Maidenhead's poplar-guarded bridge 
and on into the unknown. 

English gardens are as well known by name 
to readers as are English ale and cheese. One 
of the most charming experiences in life is to 
vivify words. To one who has lived and moved 
in English gardens these words become mir- 
rors of lovely memories. Whosoever can 
spend a summer day on England's river — for 
the Thames is unquestionably the king of her 
rivers even as the rose is the queen of her gar- 



22 Ways and Days Out of London 

dens — and be unimpressed with the beauty and 
the profusion of the flowers which glow along 
the banks has but a dull, dead soul. 

Drifting silently downstream scarcely faster 
than the leisurely current, this day was to us 
a dream, a divine idyl as compared to the 
many we had wasted — so we now thought — 
in the unwholesome town. 

An attendant, who had been shown our tick- 
ets, told us we were approaching Bray, from 
whose manor rents had been assigned by Ed- 
ward III to his beloved Philippa. He also 
reminded us of the famous vicar whose creed 
had been subject to change without notice in 
the days when England's oft-changing mon- 
archs proclaimed the nation's religion to be 
Catholic or Protestant. Bray Lock, like most 
of the locks on the Thames, is dominated by 
a keeper's tiny house smothered in gay flow- 
ers. On Monkey Island still stands the one- 
time playhouse of a notorious so-called " no- 
bleman " ; the house, now used as an inn, is evi- 
dently a popular bourne of punters on this 
part of the river. We were discovering that 
the keynote of the river is rest. Every villa 
has its garden or flower-bordered lawn, which 
extends to the brink of the stream, usually com- 
plemented by a tiny boathouse suggestive of 
long, lazy hours in light pleasure boats. Every 



From Maidenhead to Staines 23 

garden or lawn is more or less shaded; and in 
the shade are chairs and tables — such delectable 
chairs as we had long known from Du Man- 
ner's drawings; such well-rooted tables as 
leave no doubt of their permanent usefulness. 
We noticed with pleasure that the summer 
silence was not profaned by multitudes of 
loud-ticking, tootling motor boats. England's 
conservatism is refreshing to pilgrims from the 
land whose unspoken behest is: " Never be sat- 
isfied with what you have. Seek something 
different." 

It is to be expected that where willows trail 
their tips in the tranquil tide all should be- 
speak peace, quietude, repose; but the homes, 
whether humble or haughty, were equally sug- 
gestive of the spirit of rest. 

Now, indeed, " came true " our dream of iris 
stately and tall amid trembling reeds. We said 
but little ; yet each knew of what the other was 
thinking. Little birds cheeping in the marshes, 
larger birds circling in joyous chase, peopled 
the picture with the life which nature uses to 
enhance her inanimate loveliness. 

The character of the valley through which 
the river sinuates is ever-changing, yet always 
beautiful. At first we were fearful as each 
new vista became imminent lest there be ugly 
factories, quarries, or, in our ignorance of the 



24 Ways and Days Out of London 

climate — perhaps ice houses to destroy our joy 
and bring our spirits back with the chill of dis- 
illusion from their present elation to the gloom 
of disappointment. Then, as each fresh pros- 
pect presented only fresh glimpses of fairness, 
we forgot fear and permitted our spirits to 
float in the full freedom of satisfaction. 

Now great clusters of poplars challenged 
attention as they dominated a foreland. There 
is a dignity, a calm consciousness of command 
about these trees, coupled with their splendid 
eagerness to overtop all others and a sturdy 
loyalty to their own kind. Who ever sees a 
poplar alone? The frequency with which 
groups of three occur recalls that pretty story 
of three sisters who, having been accused by 
Juno of murdering their brother, protested 
their innocence until Jupiter in pity converted 
them into trees, their arms eternally upraised 
protesting innocence. 

Again, our quiet little boat glided among 
level fields ruddy with poppies, or lush mead- 
ows where sheep, cattle, or horses peacefully 
browsed through sunny hours. More often, 
however, we passed pleasant villas whose, ivy- 
covered garden walls secured privacy, whose 
velvet lawns sought the river edge, whose tiny 
boathouses were often literally covered with 
flowers, and whose entire atmosphere was ex- 




BKiw**' 



They must he .sujfrageiies glorying in the subjugation of man. 



From Maidenhead to Staines 25 

pressive of the home love which is the strongest 
characteristic of the Enghsh people. 

" I wonder," whispered Sonia, " why every 
EngHsliman is not a lyric poet? " 

" Probably because the average Englishman 
inherits more of the phlegm of his Anglo-Saxon 
ancestors than the romantic inclinations of his 
Norman progenitors. His consciousness of 
lyric inspiration goes no deeper than the de- 
sire to punt or stand all day thigh high in 
waters casting about for a three-inch fish. 
They— Oh!" 

This exclamation was caused by a brown 
bird who rose from the long grass in a meadow 
on our right, fluttering as though his wings 
were not strong enough to bear his plump little 
body, gradually rising the while he shrilled 
an ecstatic staccato. He described a low arc 
and sank again into the grass as though the 
effort had been too great. 

"That must be a lark!" exclaimed Sonia, 
her eyes big with excitement. 

" I thought they always soared into the 
sky? " averred Diana, remembering Words- 
worth, and looking a trifle disappointed. We 
watched this one make several futile attempts 
to rise into the empyrean and agreed that he 
must be very young. This was quite as satis- 
fying as though it had been correct. 



26 Ways and Days Out of London 

The attendant came forward again to tell 
us that the beautiful residence we were now 
passing was that of the Dowager Duchess of 
S 

" On the Bucks side," he said, " a little far- 
ther on you will see Boveny Church." 

" Bucks? " queried Diana, after he had 
turned away; "what is the meaning of 
' Bucks ' ? Oh, why did we not buy a guide 
book in Maidenhead? " 

"I think," replied Sonia; "that is what 
they call the left bank of the river. I heard 
somebody speak of the other as ' Barks '." 
Diana resisted a strong impulse to pun. Later 
we learned that Bucks is an abbreviation of 
Buckinghamshire, and that this county is sepa- 
rated by the Thames from Berkshire, more 
familiarly known as ' Berks.' 

Boveny Lock's keeper is a successful grower 
of roses. All flowers in England evidently 
grow because they are eager to do so. The 
colors are intense, the foliage luxuriant. We 
recalled our gardening efforts at home, the 
fierce heat of the American sun, the long chok- 
ing droughts of germinating time and mid- 
summer, our delight when any blooms were 
saved from atmospheric blight or destruction 
by insects. Here the trees impress one as pro- 
ducing as many leaves as can be contained in a 



From Maidenhead to Staines 27 

given space. This is also true of the luxuriant, 
omnipresent ivy, every leaf of which must have 
been polished by diligent fairies. 

A novel means of locomotion was evidently 
enjoyed by two women lying at ease under 
sunshades in a punt which was towed by a man 
walking along the grassy bank. To us it 
brought a smile; but the other passengers re- 
garded it with the same stolid indifference 
with which they beheld everything else. 

" They must be suffragettes," whispered 
Sonia, " glorying in the subjugation of that 
monster — JNIan. ' ' 

Our first glimpse of Windsor's lofty towers 
vibrating in the noonday distance seemed like 
a vision of Valhalla. We lost it in a bend of 
the river, and then, follomng the " Windle 
Shore," came to the landing at the foot of this 
still somewhat medieval to^vn. 

At the Royal Oak, near the river, the steam- 
er's passengers were served swiftly and silently 
with an excellent luncheon. " This has been 
a dream day," said Sonia, whose eyes showed 
that the dream had not yet ended. 

" Probably every inch that we have traveled 
has been teeming with history and we have 
not kno^vn it," Diana remarked a little wist- 
fully. " Yet I do not think anything could 
have made my enjoyment of this wonderful 



28 Ways and Days Out of London 

morning more complete. Let us try to buy a 
guide book before we leave Windsor." 

*' To think," said Sonia, as we were now 
emerging on the street, her glance traveling up 
to the battlemented tower far above us; "to 
think of actually being in Windsor and not 
seeing more of that splendid castle. I do not 
believe I have ever seen a real English castle. 
Can't we take a train back to London from 
here?" 

" And see no more of this blessed river? 
Are you weary of it so soon? " 

Diana thereupon regretted that her soul was 
not permitted simultaneously to inhabit two 
bodies, so that one might remain to enjoy 
Windsor while the other journeyed by river to 
Staines. Diana sagely suggested that, being 
possessed of but one body, Windsor be con- 
sidered merely a stopping place for luncheon 
on the river trip, whose name might by 
chance have been Cricklewood or Wormwood 
Scrubbs. 

Returning to our steamer, which was diffi- 
cult to distinguish among several similar ones 
moored side by side, we learned that while we 
were absent the queen had passed in a launch. 
We ruefully accepted this disappointment; 
the fact that things were happening elsewhere 
than in London being borne in upon us; and 




Our fir.sf glimpse of Windsor s towers seemed like a 
vision of Valhalla. 



From Maidenhead to Staines 29 

we both felt some resentment toward the town 
for having deprived us even of the conscious- 
ness of exurban interest. 

A group of swans loitering about Windsor 
Lock gave to the scene that idyllic quality 
which made it seem to partake more of dream 
substance than of reality. Sonia watched them 
while Diana studied her newly acquired guide 
book during the interval before the starting 
of the steamer. From this store of informa- 
tion Diana announced that Maidenhead had 
existed from very early times, her wooden 
bridge having been one of the first across the 
river. In 1352 Edward III incorporated a 
guild to keep the bridge in repair. Fifty years 
later the Duke of Surrey and the followers of 
Richard II held the bridge against the new 
king Henry IV and at nightfall made good 
their retreat. 

" ' In July, 1647,' " she read on, " ' a meet- 
ing occurred between Charles I and his three 
children at the Greyhound Inn.' (I wonder 
if it is still there?) ' On a moated site near 
Maidenhead Bridge once stood a residence of 
the kings of Mercia; and still extant are the 
remains of an abbey founded by Richard, Earl 
of Cornwall.' " 

" No wonder," said Sonia, " that we found 
the present bridge so interesting! The asso- 



30 Ways and Days Out of London 

ciations of its vicinity have doubtless become 
atmospheric." 

" ' At Taplow,' " read Diana, " ' Ehzabeth 
was imprisoned during the reign of her ' (af- 
fectionate) ' sister Mary. On the straight 
reach of the river below Taplow the annual 
champion punt races are decided.' " 

" I thought that was at Henley. Oh, no! 
of course — the university rowing races are 
there. I hope they, too, have not already oc- 
curred and we can go! " 

Eton's buildings are effective as seen from 
the river beyond a broad meadow, which, our 
book informed us, is used as a playing field. 
We wondered if the boy patiently plying a 
fishing pole on the landing steps were a truant 
from scholastic pursuits. We would like to 
have seen the " imposing aquatic display " said 
to occur here annually on the 4th of June, the 
birthday of King George III. Why had no- 
body told us of it? 

And now we were passing Datchet Mead 
where Falstaff had been dumped from a 
clothes basket into the Thames. In another 
moment our attention was called to The Bells 
of Ouseley Inn made famous bj^ Dickens and 
still the haunt of ambitious anglers. 

Magna Charta Island, green and peaceful, 
conveys no hint of the hot hearts that throbbed 



From Maidenhead to Staines 31 

there when the cruel monarch was compelled 
to permit justice to his people. The little cot- 
tage nestling among clustering trees is said 
to contain a large stone on which rested that 
momentous parchment while the barons affixed 
their signatures. Nearly seven hundred years 
have passed and still human hearts thrill at 
thought of that indelible deed. Beyond lies 
Runnymede, which looks now as it must have 
been in the year that made it famous. On the 
opposite side of the river is a large yew which 
is said to have been in existence at that time. 

At Belle Weir Lock the River Colne unites 
wfth the Thames amid thickly wooded shores. 
Although the season was late for wild iris we 
passed groups of it from time to time dur- 
ing the day; and here was a greater profusion 
of the yellow than we had yet seen. 

Above Windsor we had noticed the banks 
of the river to be chiefly a succession of pretty 
homes ; below Windsor, however, the scenery is 
almost entirely rural. It is not surprising that 
Englishmen love to return from the burning 
sun of India and Africa to rest and dream be- 
side " Sabrina's stream." Only those who can 
look with unaccustomed eyes upon such scenes 
can fully appreciate them. 

At length the little steamer paused in mid- 
stream and a wherry put out from shore. 



32 Ways and Days Out of London 

" This is Staines, ladies " ; and we were as- 
sisted gently, quietly, sans haste into the small 
boat, whose bearded oarsman pulled a few 
leisurely strokes ere we alighted on a slide be- 
side the Pack Horse Inn. 

Here we were the only applicants for tea, 
which was served us by a courteous old man 
strikingly like Bohun in " You Never Can 
Tell." We sat under an awning on the river- 
side terrace, feeling that we must be part of 
a book, a play. No need for words. Sonia 
threw crumbs to clamorous sparrows and Diana 
watched a curiously primitive method of pile 
driving on the opposite shore, the river being 
much wider at this point than we had hereto- 
fore seen it, save as it passed through London. 
The pile driving reminded her at once of Egypt 
and May Day. The hammer was operated by 
eight ropes, each of which was manipulated 
by a man. Their concerted efforts lifted and 
dropped the weight. Diana reflected that 
labor must be cheap, and time of little value, 
yet in her present humor she preferred this 
pleasantly primitive method, which seemed to 
be in keeping with all that the river had to-day 
revealed to her. Bohun, with Chesterfieldian 
politeness, directed us to the railway station. 
An hour later we were in our rooms dressing 
for " Lohengrin." En route to Covent Gar- 







Si 



» 



o 



From Maidenhead to Staines 33 

den the Thames seemed as remote as London 
had seemed a few hours earher. Yet the spell 
of London had been broken, and our enjoy- 
ment of her delights was all the keener be- 
cause we had wrested from her the key to her 
postern gate. 




CHAPTER III 

Rainham and Rochester 

HOW dismal the geography of our school 
days! A mere meaningless memoriz- 
ing of names and facts whose sole interest was 
centered in the seemingly irrelevant pictures 
interspersed amid an arid waste of words — 
dreary words. 

England to our childhood minds suggested 
one of two very queer-shaped islands, whose 
ragged coasts our pencils faithfully traced in 
a dozen wavy lines which were very black at 
first and gradually became fainter until the 
last one was well nigh lost in the mystery of 
an unseen sea. Under these productions we 
boldly inscribed in large, triumphant capitals : 

THE BRITISH ISLES 



Later we learned of Roman legions landing in 
Kent; but what could we know of England 



34 



Rainham and Rochester 35 

from geography books and maps, or of Eng- 
land's Kent from history books? 

Now the mention of Kent evokes visions of 
vast strawberry fields converging in perspect- 
ive, as though mutely indicating the distant 
blue line of the hills ; of climbing hop vines that 
recall the vineyards of the South and of hooded 
hop kilns here and there among them. Kent 
means softly undulating farm lands affording 
occasional glimpses of lovely dales and densely 
wooded districts. Kent also means Canter- 
bury bells growing in myriads along the rail- 
way banks together with daisies and rosy 
valerian, poppies 'mid waving " corn," young 
orchards, hea\'y hay crops and pheasant 
farms. 

Diana discovered that her ancestors had 
come to the New World from the little Kent- 
ish village of Rainham, and that Rainham 
is within forty miles of London. Having pro- 
cured maps, railway guides, and others our 
zest for adventuring out from London had 
been the more whetted by the discovery of 
ways and means to that end. 

England's railway trains, which at first look 
like pretty but impracticable toys, often de- 
velop an astonishing speed even when they 
are not called by fancy names, such as : Ocean- 
Boat Non-stop or Lightning Express. Dash- 



36 Ways and Days Out of London 

ing through Kent at a sixty-mile rate we had 
better opportunity to perceive the distant 
landscape which circled round us than to dis- 
tinguish the flowers we glimpsed as prolonged 
stains of color along the banks of the railway 
cuttings. 

A river came into view, mirroring silver 
toward the golden summer sun. Red-sailed 
boats trailed leisurely, the reflection of their 
sails making them seem like great birds dip- 
ping down to the surface of the stream, which 
gradually widened as we looked upon it. On 
its farther shore was suddenly disclosed the 
ivy-hung keep of a castle in ruins, beyond 
which pointed cathedral towers rose. We 
were eager to know what the place was and 
resolute to see it less distantly. In another 
moment the train stopped at Chatham, where 
we were to change. A porter told us that we 
would have to wait twenty-seven minutes for 
the train to Rainham, but if the ladies cared to 
walk to the bottom of the road, which he indi- 
cated, they could reach their destination by 
electric tram. The castle and cathedral we had 
seen were at Rochester, just across the bridge 
over the Medway. 

For a moment Diana wavered in her stead- 
fastness to the genealogical pilgrimage. Sonia 
suggested : 




Co 

CCl 



30 

o 
o 



"So 



v. 



O 
■^ 



Rainham and Rochester 37 

" As Rainham seems so near, why not go 
there first and learn what you can? Perhaps 
we shall have time to see Rochester this after- 
noon and take a late train back to London." 

To the bottom of the road we accordingly 
fared. There many tram lines met. On a post 
were signs announcing the time of departure 
of the next car in each direction. The excel- 
lence of this simple system was borne in 
upon us. 

" Rochester and Frindsbury 11.40," read 
Diana. " We can go directly from here to 
Rochester — this afternoon." 

While we awaited the tram for Rainham, 
Sonia busily collected fragments of history 
which Chatham and Rochester had bestirred in 
her memory. 

" Was it not from Chatham that James II 
set forth for France when England became 
an unsafe environment for his royal head?" 
she asked. " Yes, now I remember. It was 
here that Elizabeth established the dockyards 
before the coming of the Armada; and I re- 
member something else which I crammed so 
tightly for an examination that I have it still. 
* De Ruyter, having taken Sheerness, sent his 
admiral. Van Ghent, " with seventeen sail of 
light ships and eight fire ships," to destroy 
Chatham. He succeeded in breaking a chain 



38 TV ays and Days Out of London 

stretched across the Medway, and despite fire 
from Upnor Castle burned and sunk some 
ships. Finding the country alarmed he ' (con- 
siderately) ' retired, carrying off a warship 
named the Royal Charles.' " 

" I believe," said Diana, whose memory for 
history was less reliable; " that for many years 
the ships which went out to India sailed from 
Chatham. At any rate when Dick Mordaunt 
and the Evans boys sailed with their regiment 
for Calcutta they went from Chatham. I re- 
member Kingsley's description of the depart- 
ure." 

While we were speaking, some sailors, 
singly and in groups of two or three, came 
up from a man of war newly anchored in 
the river, and each had slung a little black 
bundle over his shoulder. Every face glowed 
with the joy of once more treading the soil of 
the homeland. Some looked about eagerly for 
friends; others hastened toward distant dear 
ones. One rosy-faced young Jack met with 
joy his pretty little wife, who was trundling 
their baby. It was like a scene from an opera 
where from among the bedizened supers an 
occasional one is claimed by a woman from the 
ranks of the chorus. Here, however, the blue 
uniform was less spectacular, the greeting so 
sincerely simple that we looked with misty eyes 



Rainham and Rochester 39 

and then stumbled to the top of the tram for 
Rainham. As it cHmbed a steep hill leading 
out of the town we had opportunity to see how 
large has grown this important stronghold. 
On a hill to the north stands a fort, one of the 
many erected for Chatham's defense of Eng- 
land. To the south far below stretch many 
irregular rows of pent-roofed houses whose 
slate tops looked oddly like the skeleton of 
some gigantic animal. 

Two officers of the Royal Engineers, splen- 
did specimens of British masculinity, who had 
been sitting in front of us alighted at a broad 
field on the summit of the ridge where mili- 
tary manoeuvres appeared to be in progress. 
We had seen with delight a windmill whose 
slow sails recalled the beloved Netherlands; 
and now, far away on our left, wound the blue 
Medway through verdant pastures on her way 
to the sea. We persuaded ourselves that the 
hazy, low-lying land along the far horizon 
must be the ancient Isle of Thanet, whose de- 
fenseless shores had received frequent hordes 
of fierce foes to whom the subjugation of the 
feeble inhabitants of this whole land seemed 
but a merry game in that orgy which life 
must have been during the long days before 
history began. 

The tramway was laid beside a broad high- 



40 Ways and Days Out of London 

way which extends in unbending directness as 
far as the sight can penetrate. At Rainham 
the tram hne ends. Before us, high above the 
street, rose a square-towered stone church 
which looked as though it had been erected in 
a time when buildings were intended long to 
outlast the human hands that fashioned them. 
This proved to be the parish church. We 
tried the door, found it locked, and strolled 
about among the graves seeking a certain 
name inscribed on the stones, many of which 
had long since fallen, while from the majority 
the inscriptions were almost entirely effaced. 
Diana searched vainly; but Sonia, to her aston- 
ishment, found the names of some of her New 
England ancestors. The grass was long ; many 
graves unmarked. We paused to admire tall 
eglantines glowing with dainty flowers, and 
some fine old yews. Diana asked a boy where 
the vicarage was located. 

" Down there," he responded, waving his 
arm in a general direction, which evidently in- 
cluded the long, hot street whose uninterest- 
ing house-fronts tempted us to remain longer 
in the cool repose of the churchyard. We 
went a short distance, and perceiving a door 
in a high wall slightly ajar caught a refresh- 
ing glimpse of broad shady laT\Tis beyond 
which a rose arch evidently led into a garden. 







?1h 



^ 
v 






Si 



Rainha7n and Rochester 41 

A woman lay in a chaise tongue under wide- 
spreading branches. Such a contrast was this 
to the hot, dusty street that we involuntarily 
paused and momentarily forgot that we were 
trespassing. A card tacked on the door caught 
Diana's eye : " Rainham Vicarage. Ring the 
bell." 

A green-aproned carpenter answered the 
summons and asked us to step within the wall 
while he called the vicar. This gentleman 
was most cordial and became enthusiastic 
when he learned our errand. First, we must 
meet his wife while he fetched the church 
keys. She was recovering from an illness, and 
he hovered over her for a moment in affection- 
ate solicitude after he had presented us. Her 
quiet voice and cordial hand-clasp bade us wel- 
come. We were Americans, of course, she 
supposed; but was it possible we had come 
all the way from London in these white linen 
costumes? When the vicar came to show us 
the church and the registers Mrs. Vicar en- 
treated us to return for luncheon with them. 
We thanked and protested; but she said we 
were the first real Americans she had ever met, 
and there were so many questions she would 
like to ask us about New York, especially its 
overhead railway and its flatirons, that our re- 
turn would be a great kindness to her. 



42 Ways and Days Out of London 

The vicar paused in the churchyard to show 
us the grave of Sam Weller, whose " real " 
name was Job Baldwin. Then we passed 
under the pretty modern porch of the parish 
church, which dates from the thirteenth 
century — and whose heavy door with hand- 
wrought iron bands and nails and beautiful 
old lock bespoke its antiquity — into the 
church, where the heavy hand of the restorer 
has obliterated much that lovers of architecture 
would fain have retained. The nave is double, 
the side walls strengthened by heavy wooden 
cross beams upheld by clustered rough-hewn 
timbers. 

A statue of an ancient lord of Thanet has 
a background of red drapery painted on the 
plaster, which was oddly suggestive of the Ital- 
ian propensity for decorating walls with pic- 
tured furnishings. Could some disciple of 
Giorgione have journeyed to England and 
thus decorated this little church? 

The registers were, however, of paramount 
interest to us. These had been carefully kept 
since the beginning of the sixteenth century, 
simple records of birth, baptism, marriage and 
death. Their yellow vellum pages gave cause 
for reverent admiration of booklovers apart 
from the intensely human interest they stirred. 

" Now, I shall leave you ladies in full pos- 



Rainham and Rochester 48 

session. At one I shall return and bear you 
back to the vicarage for luncheon." His com- 
ing was punctual. Our task was finished ; and 
after he had locked the precious volumes in a 
safe we went out into the churchyard and so 
on to the pleasant vicarage, where we tasted 
the wine of truest hospitality — a hearty wel- 
come to utter strangers. To our astonishment 
and delight our host informed us that the tram 
on which we had come from Chatham had 
borne us along the edge of the Watling Street, 
which, commencing at Dover, passed through 
Canterbury, Rochester, and London on its 
way to far-distant Chester. The Via Appia 
had long since thrilled us with thoughts of the 
days in which it was constructed ; but what was 
a Roman road in Rome as compared to this 
highway which had been prepared for the 
legions of Caesar in a foreign land? We had 
spoken often of the Watling Street and hoped 
to include parts of it in a later pilgrimage 
through England toward Liverpool and the 
western world of home. To have found our- 
selves traveling upon a portion of it was a 
surprise fraught with that intense pleasure 
which the unexpected alone can afford. The 
return ride from Rainham to Chatham past 
perfumed hay fields full of flaunting poppies, 
the great highway on our left, and overhead 



> J> 



44 Ways and Days Out of London 

the fairest of summer skies was one of enchant 
ment. 

" ' As where some buried Csesar bled, 
quoted Diana, gazing at the ruddy stain of the 
poppies. " I suppose this part of Kent has 
many times been drenched with the blood of 
human sacrifice." 

Before entering Rochester the tram follows 
high banks facing the Medway. Here and 
there residences, surrounded with fine old trees, 
conceal the river, but the loveliest glimpses we 
had of this firthlike stream were caught from 
the top of the tram, which soon bore us into 
the High Street of Rochester, so soon, in fact, 
that we did not believe the town with so many 
quaint timbered houses could be Rochester 
until a peal of soft-toned bells drew our atten- 
tion to the towers of the cathedral directly 
above us on the left. Through the remains of 
an old gateway we passed into the close, and 
pausing but a moment to deplore the zeal of 
the restorer and the necessity for restoration 
as displayed in the cathedral's west front, whose 
one redeeming feature is the beautiful Norman 
doorway, we entered the cool dusk of the north 
transept. In the choir boyish voices had be- 
gun to chant the evensong. Sonia entered and 
knelt. Diana preferred to wait quietly in the 
nave, where she caught the sound of the dis- 



Rainham and Rochester 45 

tant voices mingling with the rich vibration of 
the organ the while her beauty-loving spirit 
was incited by the splendid Norman bays both 
to rest and worship. Her thoughts dwelt upon 
that far-reaching mission of St. Augustine 
which caused a church to be erected in Roches- 
ter as early as 604, when he had been in Eng- 
land but seven years. This early wooden struc- 
ture had been superseded by one of stone, 
which was later incorporated with Bishop Gun- 
dulph's building of 1077. Much of that edi- 
fice may still be seen. When the remodeled 
cathedral was dedicated in 1130, the king, 
Henry I, was present. The many enlargements 
and alterations which occurred between 1130 
and 1479 may easily be distinguished. Henry 
VIII evidently had a wide acquaintance with 
the religious establishments in his kingdom 
even though he may not have been overfre- 
quent in his devotions. Rochester was not for- 
gotten in his iconoclastic zeal, although it was 
spared the utter demolition which befell so 
many of its fellows. He " dissolved " its gov- 
ernment and refounded it as a Cathedral 
Church dedicated to Christ and the Virgin. 
The Puritans, too, whose religious zeal mani- 
fested a childish lust for destruction of beauti- 
ful things which are not understood or appre- 
ciated, so ill-treated this cathedral that it was 



46 Ways and Days Out of London 

described as " much delapidated and sadly 
needing repair." Then occurred a further 
series of renovations and restorations in which 
the name of Sir Gilbert Scott holds a conspicu- 
ous position. 

" The choir is rather stuffy," admitted Sonia, 
as Diana joined her there after service. While 
waiting for a verger to take us down to the 
crypt we idled among tombs and brasses. The 
memorial to Charles Dickens reminded us of 
his close association with the town of Roches- 
ter as related in " Edwin Drood," " Pickwick," 
and " Great Expectations." Incidentally we 
recalled that in the " Uncommercial Traveler " 
Chatham's dockyards were described. The 
window inserted by the Royal Engineers in 
memory of General Gordon and the men who 
never came back from the Soudan and Egypt 
stirred profound emotions. 

Delicately beautiful as a piece of rare lace 
is the Chapter House doorway. Our verger 
returned while we stood admiring its exquisite 
workmanship, and told us that Canon Ben- 
ham, who had written a book on Rochester 
Cathedral, considered this doorway second to 
none in the world. 

The verger asked if we had seen the tomb 
of St. William of Perth, and we admitted hav- 
ing noticed it, although we were not sure 



Rainham and Rochester 47 

which of the shopworn monuments it was ; but 
time was pressing and we were more interested 
in hurrying toward the dehghts of the castle 
which still awaited than in brasses or effigies; 
but the verger politely pressed upon us certain 
of his knowledge, and we were glad to have 
submitted when we learned that William, a 
baker of Perth, in the beginning of the thir- 
teenth century made it his custom to give every 
tenth loaf to the poor. This must have had 
its difficulties, for 'prentices might at times 
have forgotten to count — supposing they knew 
how — or been careless. But these old stories 
are good in the telling. The most interesting 
thing about William, we thought, being dis- 
passionately concerned, was that his servant, 
who murdered William en route to the Holy 
Land via Canterbury, chose to do so on the 
Watling Street. For the tithe, the objective 
point of travel and the assassination, William 
was canonized in 1256. This was told us as 
we stood in the pretty deanery gardens giving 
thanks to nature for planting dainty flowers 
in the crannied wall of the old priory. 

However much we might have doubted the ^ 
accuracy of some of the verger's carefully re- 
cited information, the statement that Roches- 
ter's crypt is one of the finest in England we 
accepted with entire faith, for surely there 



48 Ways and Days Out of London 

could not be many so spacious. Its vistas of 
low-vaulted dimly lit chambers seemed elo- 
quent of the mystery that dwells underground. 

This had been a day of unforeseen discov- 
eries, among which the most delightful was 
reserved for the last. As we stood in the gar- 
dens inclosed by fragmentary walls of the cas- 
tle save where the Medway glides silently by, 
we forgot our fatigue in looking up on the 
great square keep which has sturdily with- 
stood the attacks of hostile foes as well as the 
modern vandal's pickaxe. We sat on a bench 
where we could look comfortably at its splen- 
did walls and the red sails loitering in the still 
afternoon. Children were feeding a flock of 
pigeons, their merry voices a contrast to the 
scenes our fancy pictured in the shadow of 
these ancient walls. Tethered to the wall of 
the keep, absurdly suggestive of a mimic 
watchdog, was a tiny white donkey. While 
Diana sought entrance to this keep, whose 
main doorway was closed by an iron grille 
much like the portcullis which had once pro- 
tected it, Sonia interrogated some rosy-faced 
children and learned that Nancy was a prize- 
medal donkey whom they were permitted to 
feed with carrots and occasionally to ride. 

Sixpence gave us the freedom of the keep's 
interior. A recent owner of the castle, having 




Children were feeding a flock of pigeons. 



Rainham and RocJiester 49 

inherited none of the conservatism of his race, 
desired to sell his property; but failing to find 
a purchaser he caused it to be dismantled and 
disposed of piecemeal. The first of the depre- 
dations of this Kentish radical, Walker Wel- 
don, was the removal of all the woodwork — 
the splendid oak doors, floors, and joists — 
which was sold to one Gimmett and incorpo- 
rated in his new brewhouse. Followed all the 
worked Caen stone, such as the turnings of 
arches and the " nosing " of steps to a firm of 
London masons who tore away all they could 
reach. Happily there was much beyond their 
long arms, and the arched doors on which we 
looked upward for six stories are still very 
beautiful tokens of early Norman workman- 
ship. In the year 1878 Weldon offered the 
rest of the keep to a local pavior ; but the crafty 
prospective purchaser bethought him to test 
the strength of these walls of Kentish ragstone 
whose thickness was twelve feet. To his de- 
sistance we owe it that this splendid strong- 
hold remains. 

Why are the cannon of modern warfare con- 
sidered more destructive than the old battering 
rams ? When it is remembered that in the time 
of King John a portion of these walls was un- 
dermined by his battering rams so that it fell 
outward and carried with it a part of the outer 



50 Ways and Days Out of London 

wall into the moat there would seem to be no 
necessity for more effectual instruments. One 
of the dungeons remains to suggest the 
unlovehness of the " good " old times. We 
thought of Robert Bruce's queen lowered by 
ropes into this pit, where for seven months 
she dwelt in darkness and horror until the cas- 
tle's constable, Henry de Cobham, was ordered 
to " assign for her use a suitable room within 
the said castle; and that the sum of twenty 
shillings be allowed for her weekly expenses; 
and that she be permitted at convenient times 
to walk under safe custody within the precincts 
of the aforesaid castle and the Priory of St. 
Andrew." 

The Romans were again recalled to us by 
three blackened piles of a Roman bridge which 
with some others were discovered in the river 
bed while constructing the present bridge. 

As we ascended the worn stones of the great 
spiral stairway we thought of the clank of 
armored knights and the occasional silken tread 
of fair women which had long ago preceded 
the tourists, who, conscious of intrusion in the 
privacy of the past, yet reverently relived the 
scenes in which their ancestors may have par- 
ticipated. The outer windows, as we ascended, 
gave us pleasant glimpses of the cathedral or, 
on the other side, of the gardens and the river. 



Rainham and Rochester 51 

Pausing to rest and to contemplate at leisure 
the details of the great pile now peopled only 
by pigeons, Sonia glanced through some of the 
local guides she had procured. 

" Henry the Second," said Diana, " I was 
taught in school to believe a ' powerful ' king ; 
but when I think on the ' local pavior ' and the 
thickness of these walls I am more than ever 
convinced of Henry's power by recalling that 
he is said to have destroyed eleven hundred 
Norman castles. How tired he must have 
been!" 

Sonia looked up from her guide books. " I 
am trying to recall which of the Ingoldsby 
Legends it is that begins: 

* In Rochester Town 
At the sign of the Crown.' " 

" I don't know that one," said Diana, " but 
it was on this very tower St. Bridget's Hand 
of Glory burned every St. Mark's Eve — per- 
haps it still does — and the saint appeared to 
the parish clerk at Rochester while he was un- 
trussing his points preparatory to nocturnal 
retirement, held up that same incandescent 
hand and compelled him to exhume the un- 
shriven sailor who had been buried too close to 
her saintship." 



52 Ways and Days Out of London 

"'The Rood of Gillingham was deserted; 
the chapel of Rainham forsaken,' " quoted So- 
nia, whose mind in childhood had received many 
indelible impressions. 

We read that this castle had been construct- 
ed, perhaps reconstructed — the old British set- 
tlement which the Romans called Durobrivse 
having occupied the site of the present town 
— by the redoubtable William of Normandy, 
and that during the centuries immediately fol- 
lowing the occasion at Hastings both Roches- 
ter city and castle were frequently besieged. 
As early as the days of Kent's independent 
Saxon monarchy Rochester was regarded as 
an important stronghold on the Medway. It 
was destroyed by Ethelred, King of Mercia, 
in 676, and by the Danes nearly two hundred 
years later. 

When Odo, the fighting Bishop of Bayeux — 
who strove beside his brother, Duke William, 
at Hastings, and to whom William gave 
the reconstructed castle of Rochester — raised 
an insurrection against William Rufus and in 
favor of Robert of Normandy, the Conquer- 
or's son besieged and " took " the castle and 
forced the prelate to return to his Norman 
town of tapestries. 

Three times during the twelfth century both 
town and castle were nearly destroyed by fire. 




30 

o 
>■ — -^ 

v. 
to 



O 
to 

to 



to 



3 



to 

V. 

to 



Si, 



Rainham and Rochester 53 

In 1215 King John gathered together at Dover 
an army of mercenaries and marched north- 
ward on the Wathng Street to attack Roches- 
ter Castle which, staunchly defended by Wil- 
liam de Albini, withstood him for three months. 
In the next year Louis, Dauphin of France, 
landed at Thanet in aid of the barons and again 
the castle was " taken " ; but after his retreat 
and the death of John it submitted once more 
to the crown. 

It is written that in 1540 " the impatient 
though unwieldy lover Henry VIII, accompa- 
nied by eight gentlemen of his privy chamber," 
rode to Rochester to meet the latest bride 
(Anne of Cleves). Alas! poor Hal. 

Many kings caused the castle to be repaired 
after its various vicissitudes. Of these the last 
was Edward IV. In 1610 King James I 
granted the whole estate of the castle to Sir 
Anthony Weldon of Swanscombe, a prede- 
cessor of Walker Weldon. 

We had seen all that was to be seen of the 
castle, and were preparing to descend the stone 
stairs, our eyes a little blinded by the light in 
the upper corridors from which we had just 
emerged, when a long shrill scream from far 
below came echoing through the great spaces. 
So utterly had we been immersed in the past 
that for a moment we paused and gazed at each 



54 Ways and Days Out of London 

other with wild eyes and white faces. Then 
other screams followed in the shrill treble of 
childish voices and we laughed, remembering 
the children whom we had seen playing in the 
gardens. 

When we looked back at the tower on our 
way down to the fine old water gate of the 
castle, two Scots in scarlet coats and gay tartan 
kilts about to enter the keep made the ivied 
walls more picturesque than before. 

Tea in a pleasant little garden back of a 
shop on the High Street refreshed us. At the 
foot of the esplanade a boatman had offered to 
row us to Upnor Castle. Upon inquiry as 
to its present state of preservation, he told us 
that it was now used as a powder magazine. 
This was fortunate, for the afternoon was 
nearly gone, and we had still many things to 
see in Rochester. There is a Crown Inn, built 
upon the site of that in which the three shabby- 
genteel men sat them down to " fat stubble- 
goose, with potatoes done brown." On the 
High Street is also the Bull Inn, whose beds 
Mr. Alfred Jingle praised. In the Vines 
Recreation Ground is a fragment of the old 
city wall. Other parts remain, but we were 
obliged to forego the pleasure of seeing them. 

In the Recreation Ground that once was the 
vineyard of the Priory of St. Andrew we had 



Rainham and Rochester 55 

noticed the Restoration House, where Charles 
II passed a night on his return to England 
in 1660. Of Eastgate House, known to read- 
ers of Edwin Drood, we saw only the exterior, 
delightfully Tudor. Now on the High Street 
was passed the Watt's Charity House with its 
" quaint old door — choice little, long low lattice 
windows and a roof of three gables." 

An assiduous cabman, sagaciously perceiv- 
ing our nationality, asked if he might drive the 
ladies to Gad's Hill House; but upon learning 
that it was only shown to visitors on Wednes- 
days, the present day being Thursday and the 
hour but little short of six, we declined the drive 
and bought photographs of Dickens's home to 
comfort us as best they might. The cabman, 
nowise disgruntled by the loss of a fare, asked 
if we would not like to see the Elizabethan 
stairway in the Gordon Hotel, before which 
we were standing. The time-blackened and 
use-polished wood of this staircase would have 
been worth a long pilgrimage, as would also 
the fine " dog-gate " which the hotel contains, 
and is said to be the only one in Kent. A room 
was shown us through which James II escaped 
when he was recaptured at Chatham. The 
building is said to have been erected about 
1600. 

The cabman's courtesy was rewarded to the 



56 Ways and Days Out of London 

best of our ability. We were driven by him 
across the bridge to our station. The distance 
was short, and a tram might have conveyed us 
far more economically; but there are times 
when a cab is indispensable, and our apprecia- 
tion of this brief drive was so lavishly expressed 
that the driver's smiles and bows were not dis- 
continued until the train for London bore us 
from his ken and Kent. 




CHAPTER lY 

Royal Ascot 

**T> OYAL weather for Royal Ascot," 
XV exclaimed Sonia, who is always the 
first to pull up the clattering Venetian blinds 
and admit the light of morning. At such 
times she announces to Diana, who does not 
wish to be talked to, the hour and the weather. 
But nowhere is the weather so vital a topic as 
in England; and it is not surprising that the 
magazine advertisements so often concern 
rain-proof garments. 

" You must wear your smartest frocks, my 
dears!" had been Lady Hanford-Burham's 
parting injunction on the previous evening. 
" At Ascot we women have our greatest oppor- 
tunity of the whole season for the display of 
millinery." 

While Diana gave a final twist to the roses 
in her hat, and Sonia, who had pulled a button 

57 



58 Ways and Days Out of London 

off her glove, dove frantically into her sewing 
basket for another of similar size, our maid 
announced " her ladyship," and we descended 
to the drawing-room. 

" Where is Sir Arthur? " Diana asked. 

" Oh, I say, my dears ; but it is such a disap- 
pointment. The poor man has a horrible in- 
fluenza and cannot possibly go with us. He 
was so anxious to back Pillo and Louvier. But 
he insists that we go nevertheless. I call it 
horrid, you know, not to have a man with us. 
What a jolly little frock you are wearing, So- 
So!" 

" My dear Di, what in the world are you 
going to do with that mackintosh? " This to 
Diana, who had hung a silken rain cape over 
her arm. 

" I thought it might be wiser to take — some- 
thing. It is not so pleasant as when we woke 
this morning." 

" We shall not need anything of the sort," 
Lady Hanford assured her. " You must not 
spoil the effect of your pretty French finery." 
With manifest reluctance Diana laid the 
cape on a chair and took a fluffy parasol 
instead. 

" This looks interesting," said Sonia, as we 
waited in the great station for the " Ascot 
special " to be announced. Throngs of people 



Royal Ascot 59 

congregated, all dressed in what constituted 
their idea of fitness for the occasion. The 
social status of the women could be instantly 
determined by their choice of color, material 
and style. Among the men there was great 
dissimilarity. The gilded youth of proud line- 
age and no chin stood with field glass slung 
correctly over his shoulder chatting with the 
scion of a ducal house whose thick purple lips 
and reddened eyes gave little credit to the 
famous ancestor who fought beside his king 
at Crecy. Actors in plenty were assembled 
with wholly correct attire of the sort Billy, 
Sonia's brother, would have dubbed " noisy." 
Of coachmen and grooms who had been ac- 
corded a holiday we detected several. White- 
haired, ruddy-cheeked, frock-coated M. P.'s 
stood in friendly groups in which women flut- 
tered pleasantly; and corpulent, ready-made 
necktie race goers whose interest was in reve- 
nue only stood waiting for the gates to open. 
Everybody bought race cards and morning 
papers in which they studied the past perform- 
ances of the horses and picked the day's win- 
ners. The train sped without stop to Ascot. 
We passed Staines and caught a glimpse as 
the train crossed the Thames of the Pack 
Horse Hotel where we had alighted from the 
steamer. 



60 Ways and Days Out of London 

" It is raining," announced Diana, with an 
I-told-you-so expression. 

" I," said Sonia, " am in so beatific a frame 
of mind that I am prepared to see my finest 
raiment draggled in the mud and splashed 
with rain without being in the least per- 
turbed." 

The train stopped and we plunged into the 
crowds of remarkably well-dressed men and 
women. Everybody was intent on having a 
good time. The platform was protected by a 
glass roof and a long, covered passage led 
to the race course. None of us had ever been 
to the races before, and all were conscious of 
a cat-in-a-strange-garret feeling. On the grass 
beside the covered way a vast number of beg- 
gars squatted in the rain, who promised all 
sorts of luck to the generous. The English 
people must be universally charitable, for in 
every hotel, restaurant, railway station, and in 
a multitude of other places we were confronted 
with contribution boxes for some charitable 
purpose. Diana threw silver and coppers to 
all these mendicants beside the covered way to 
the race course, laughing when they assured 
her of being a " sure winner." 

" Why do they solicit for the lifeboat serv- 
ice? " asked Sonia. 

"My dear!" replied her ladyship, "you 




«0 



e 

,,^ 

^ 

^ 



CO 
O 






as 






Royal Ascot 61 

have no idea how those poor fellows risk their 
lives to save the crews and passengers on 
wrecked ships along the coast. Everybody 
contributes to their support." 

" Do you mean that they are supported by 
charity and not by the government? " we asked 
in amazement. 

" Yes, their services are voluntary ; but I am 
told they are well paid because everybody has 
so much sympathy for the poor dear fellows." 

We had been invited to sit in INIrs. jNIiller's 
box ; but the custodian thereof told us that ]Mrs. 
Miller was not expecting to be present to-day 
and the box was already filled with some 
friends who had come in their motor. Lady 
Hanf ord-Burham was very much embarrassed ; 
but we supposed ISIrs. INIiller was more gen- 
erous than systematic, and had forgotten to 
how many she had offered the freedom of her 
box or else supposed its capacity to be unlim- 
ited. To our surprise and delight we obtained 
'without difficulty excellent places on a covered 
stand somewhat nearer to the Royal Enclosure 
and the judges' stand. The rain had ceased 
and Lady Hanford took occasion to remind 
us that we had not as yet been exposed to a 
" single drop." 

" I do wish I had thought to ask Art how 
we could place our bets," she said. 



62 Ways and Days Out of London 

" My favorite is Silent Lady," said Sonia. 
" It is the prettiest name of all." 

" How much will you back her with? " asked 
Diana. 

" Nothing at all! " replied that young lady 
decisively. " I am not here to gamble." 

" We must find a way," declared Diana to 
Lady Hanford, a reckless gleam in her eyes; 
" I want to bet a sov. on Louvier. I wonder 
how it is done? The American jockey is going 
to ride him." 

" There is a harmless-looking man in the 
next box," volunteered Sonia, interested de- 
spite her scruples. " Why don't you ask him 
how to do it? " 

Her ladyship, devoutly wishing that Sir Ar- 
thur's " flu " had waited until a more conven- 
ient time, blushingly asked the harmless-look- 
ing man, whose gray hair inspired some confi- 
dence, for the necessary information. 

" I think," he repHed, " you will have to wire 
to London." 

" Not a bit of it," murmured Diana. '* Let 
us go down and see what we can do here. 
There are dozens of bookies standing there. I 
wonder why they all are wearing gray hats. 
What a shouting! It is as bad as the Stock 
Exchange on a panicky morning." As usual 
a bobby helped us out of our difficulty, and we 



Royal Ascot 63 

had scarcely settled ourselves in our seats after 
having boldly invested some gold pieces when 
the royalties' approach was announced. 

"Isn't it just too splendid!" Sonia whis- 
pered, as the three royal carriages, each drawn 
by four sleek bays, with due accompaniment of 
postilions and outriders, advanced along the 
emerald turf while bands played, people 
shouted, women who had been presented made 
their Court courtesy, and the sun broke forth 
to make the scene still more brilliant. They 
drove in beside the Royal Enclosure, the king 
and queen speaking with acquaintances there- 
in; and soon the queen's mauve dress graced 
the front of the circular royal box, where we 
watched her all day as assiduously as though 
we were staunch royalists and not democratic 
citizens of the Land of the Free. 

" So-So, my dear, I fear your Silent Lady 
has been scratched," said her ladyship, looking 
at the bulletin. 

" Now you see how wise I was to keep my 
golden ducats," laughed Sonia. 

" Here they come! " 

The green of England's rolling landscape 
was more than intensified by the gray of the 
sky, for the sun had withdrawn again. The 
horses flashed past the royal box with never 
a false start, and the gay apparel of the jock- 



64 Ways and Days Out of London 

eys diminished to mere points of color in the 
distance, vanished for a moment as the track 
dipped, then reappeared and skimmed along 
like birds farther away; until curving grad- 
ually nearer and larger they approached while 
thousands of people watched in a hush so in- 
tense that it seemed something must break. 
And it did. A low murmur stirred in the great 
throng of spectators, which vibrated more 
loudly with the horses' approach and burst 
into shouts of excitement as the winner flashed 
beyond his closely pressing second and the bell 
clanged. Lady Hanford discovered with sur- 
jDrise that she had beaten to shreds her beauti- 
ful fan of pearl and plumes. Our favorites 
were not in the first few races. We wanted 
Minoru, the king's horse, to win; but he was 
defeated. It was a day when few of the favor- 
ites won and there were some surprises among 
the bettors. 

" I wonder if the royalties are having chicken 
and ham, too," said Diana, as these viands were 
set before us at luncheon. " When I suggested 
to Mrs. Dodson this morning that we have 
roast chicken for dinner, she said fowls are very 
dear this week because so many had been en- 
gaged for Ascot. So we had to compromise 
on veal, as she seemed certain that even extrav- 
agant Americans could not indulge in fowl 




S9K^ 




W ' 



"to 






cc 






SI 
5^ 



Royal Ascot 65 

under such circumstances, and I dared not dis- 
turb her behef." 

When the horses were assembhng for the 
race in which our favorite was to run, Diana 
was so excited she wanted to shriek hke some 
of the women who hung over the fence rail 
opposite, where the coaches were parked. The 
race was a long one ; and while the little spots 
of color skimmed across the distance she heard 
a man who had come up from the betting ring 
with a " sure tip " say: 

" Number eleven wins." 

Number eleven won by a neck and the odds 
were six to one. So Diana and her ladyship 
were flushed with triumph when they came back 
chinking the gold in their purses. 

There had been another shower and many, 
of the women who had been visiting the pad- 
dock and preferred dragging their long skirts 
about on the wet grass to sitting unobserved 
in a sheltered stand had ample opportunity 
for displaying entire sang-froid, although laces 
and chiffons were wet and muddy ; and delicate 
shoes must have been unpleasantly moist. 

" Their self-control is far more admirable 
than their indifference to the destruction of 
costly and beautiful dresses," said Sonia. " I 
am sure I could not have kept my promise of 
the morning, but should have scuttled for safety 



66 Ways and Days Out of London 

when the rain came, even if I had not seen our 
splendid Louvier win the Gold Cup — or 
whichever cup it was." 

After the last race but one we departed and 
succeeded in avoiding the returning throngs. 
We enjoyed a clean and undisturbed compart- 
ment ; moreover, we reached London in time to 
meet Miranda at Mrs. Hallyn's " at home," 
where we heard some pleasant music and par- 
took of delectable ices and strawberries. 

" We have laughed at some of your English 
customs," remarked Diana; "but for beauty 
of setting, for perfection of management in 
every detail, for royal splendor, and for so vast 
an aggregation of men of the sort for which 
England is world renowned and also for women 
whose imperturbability is as assured as the 
valor of their lords — commend me to Royal 
Ascot. 




CHAPTER V 

Kew Gardens and Richmond 

" There sits enthroned in vegetable pride 
Imperial Kew by Thames's glittering side." 

KEW GARDENS are beautiful, no doubt, 
at all times; but surely June's glory of 
rose and rhododendron is unrivaled. Kew is 
every kind of a garden — formal, informal, 
wild. There is a wonderful rock garden that 
winds up and down through the miniature 
Brocken, which gave Sonia more suggestions 
than she will ever utilize. There are rose arches 
and arbors over which riot more varieties of 
*' climbers " than are dreamed of in our cata- 
logues and price lists. 

Dorothv Perkins is new to America, and so 
are the tiny single roses that our florists are 
producing as Easter novelties; but the clever 
gardeners at Kew have long known them all. 
Diana has a passion for yellow roses and for 

67 



68 Ways and Days Out of London 

the old-fashioned mossy pink buds of her great- 
grandmother's garden. Here she found them 
all and here love for them grew greater than 
before. 

The glass houses contain little that we had 
not seen elsewhere: palms, tree ferns, cacti, 
and the wondrous Victoria Regia, not yet in 
bloom. 

But the orchids! Orchids are nature's 
music made visible — from tenderest tones to 
wildest Walkiirian abandon. The orchids 
were supreme. Some stimulated vaguely like 
the great piano concerto of Tschaikowsky or 
a czardas of Dvorak; some seemed to dance 
like the fairies of Mendelssohn. Others were 
the steady, golden, sunlit tones of Mozart ; and 
again others seemed the epitome of Beethoven's 
cool, shadow-flecked moonlight. A certain 
mauve variety can only be associated with love 
music, whether of Tristan, Romeo, or Rhada- 
mes matters not. The nightingale is the night- 
ingale whether he sings to the rose of Persia 
or of Portugal. To some people the orchid 
but an orchid is ; to others it is an exotic, which 
being expensive is desirable. A few there are 
to whom its form and color suggest a universe 
of ineffable spirituality, of poems unrevealed, 
of hopes passionately impalpable. 

The pond lilies of England are deprived of 




&5 



2 






Kew Gardens and Richmond 69 

their birthright; they are geruchlos. Perhaps 
that is why our American wild violets have no 
perfume — nature's unwritten law of compen- 
sation. 

We had come to Kew on Friday, and there- 
fore were unable to see the interior of the pal- 
ace. But who, as Diana inquired, would be 
interested in a palace, especially a Georgian, 
when they could roam in such a garden? The 
custodian who informed us that the palace was 
closed on Fridays added that there was not 
much of interest in it. 

" Most of the 'alls and hapartments is 
hempty," he said. When we learned that Rob- 
ert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, had lived here 
we were glad we had been spared further re- 
minders of Elizabeth's minion. It was more 
wholesome to think of the Dutch merchant 
who bought the palace at a later date and with 
a recklessness worthy of royalty pulled it down 
and erected the present building, which is still 
called " Dutch House." The crown regained 
it by fair means or the right of might early in 
the eighteenth century. When poor George 
III became demented he was housed here for 
a time. And here died Queen Charlotte amid 
the gardens she loved so well. During Vic- 
toria's latter days the palace and gardens were 
given to the people. 



70 Ways mid Days Out of London 

The Chinese pagoda is dear to the British 
heart; but we were not moved to enthusiasm 
regarding it. A Chinese pagoda needs a Chi- 
nese environment, which Martin Tupper pro- 
vided by asserting that the old name for Kew, 
Kai-ho, was sufficiently Chinese. 

Words are too colorless to depict the splen- 
dor of Rhododendron Dell. Even to us who 
had been in the North Carolina mountains in 
early June these masses of warm color-tones 
against polished green foliage were fraught 
with deep delight. We loitered in the wild 
garden and congratulated the song birds on 
their choice of summer residence. 

Along Cedar Vista we came to the pretty 
artificial lake, where among the tiny islets 
many sorts of water fowl disported. At the 
far end of the grassy Sion Vista the Palm 
House glistens. The names of some parts and 
paths in the shady Arboretum tell as much as 
description could: Bamboo Garden, Azalea 
Garden, Tulip Tree Avenue, Riverside Ave- 
nue. This last extends more than half a mile, 
from Isle worth Ferry to Brentford Ferry. 
At the south of Kew Gardens is the Old Deer 
Park, eight miles in circumference, which con- 
nects with Richmond. Before leaving, how- 
ever, we must see the American Garden. As 
American gardens go, this can scarcely be 



Kew Gardens and Richmond 71 

called typical; but it was pleasant to see our 
common field and roadside flowers so treas- 
ured. 

A tram bore us quickly to Richmond, where 
Diana insisted first of all upon finding " maids 
of honor." The search was not a long one; 
and in the bakeshop where we secured them 
we obtained a " decent " luncheon. The sweet- 
ened cheese cakes beloved of Elizabeth's hand- 
maidens are far less delectable than some 
others in the same shop; but loyal Sonia in- 
sisted that they were " perfectly delicious," 
and ate more than she wanted because impul- 
sive Diana had, after a single mouthful, thrust 
them aside and ordered jam tarts, murmuring 
something about the probable deterioration of 
maids of honor several hundred years old. 

The busy Richmond of to-day is very dif- 
ferent from the Schene where kings and queens 
held court amid the forests that ever furnished 
sport royal in plenty. From Syences, meaning 
in Saxon, beautiful, in German, Schon, to 
Schene and Sheen and on to Richmond of the 
French-taught Tudors is not a far cry. 

Edward I, who was not the first Edward to 
reign in England, came sometimes to the 
manor house on the river which Henry I had 
built nearly two hundred years before. From 
here went Richard II to his coronation; and 



72 Ways and Days Out of London 

here he brought his gentle Anne of Bohemia 
who was destined to die here. After her death 
the king abandoned this home of mournful 
memories which soon fell into ruins ; and Geof- 
frey Chaucer, who had been Clerk of the 
Works to the palace went to Woodstock, a 
pensioner of the crown. 

Royalties have always displayed a childish 
pleasure in razing the palaces of their prede- 
cessors. When Edward Ill's beloved Phi- 
lippa desired a new house, he dutifully rebuilt 
the palace of Schene for her. Several downs 
and ups followed before fire came unbidden 
during the reign of Henry VII and completely 
destroyed it. This gave Henry his chance; 
and up went a new palace, which he named 
Richmond, from his own earldom. Did the 
first Tudor Henry think of the last Henry of 
Lancaster who went forth from the halls of 
Schene Palace to that fatal battle of St. Al- 
ban's? And was there no prescience that ten 
years after the building of this beautiful Gothic 
residence his own body would be lying in state 
in its Great HaU? 

Square-faced King Hal, after having 
wrested from his dulled tool, Wolsey, his pal- 
ace at Hampton Court, graciously (?) per- 
mitted him to occupy the one at Richmond and 
royally condescended to visit him here. 




/ 



Wondering whether we were on Cholmondeley Walk. 



Kew Gardens and Richmond 73 

" That is what my brother Billy would call 
' rubbing it in,' " said Sonia. " The venge- 
ance of royalty toward deposed favorites seems 
to take a subhuman delight in this sort of 
thing." 

After Wolsey's death of heartbreak at his 
lonely Esher Place Henry often visited Rich- 
mond — a good place for deer stalking; but he 
wearied of it, so gave it to Anne of Cleves 
when he wearied of her. 

Mary, the bloody — the brutal — imprisoned 
her dangerous sister, Elizabeth, at Richmond 
Palace. The dangerous sister had her day also ; 
and here, it is said, she put her signature with 
steady hand and cold to the death warrant of 
her dangerous cousin, Mary of Scotland. But 
death came also to Elizabeth, whom life had 
cheated of all she most desired. A state barge 
bore in splendor her shriveled corpse down the 
Thames to London. 

It was probably here that Van Dyck came 
to paint those wonderful portraits of the chil- 
dren of Charles I. 

During the Commonwealth, when wealth 
was not common, the palace was sold for ten 
thousand pounds, which sum was devoted to 
the maintenance of the Parliamentary Army. 
The widowed queen, Henrietta Maria, was its 
first chatelaine after resumption by the crown. 



74 Ways and Days Out of London 

Of the " fourteen turrets," which much 
adorned and " set forth the fabric of the whole 
structure," and were a " very graceful orna- 
ment to the whole house, being perspicuous to 
the country round about," none remain. There 
is an archway of red brick, over which is a 
room said to have been that in which Elizabeth 
died. 

" I respectfully doubt that assertion," said 
Diana, " she could not possibly have squeezed 
her state bed into that little room, much less 
her maids of honor and their cheese cakes. 
Nevertheless this bit of the old palace is fairly 
perspicuous." The arch under this room is 
evidently a part of Henry VII's structure, for 
his arms are to be seen on an escutcheon 
above it. 

Fronting on the river is now a modern 
dwelling where a part of the palace once stood, 
connecting with the cloisters of the ancient 
Priory of Sheen that was founded by Henry 
I. Every trace of it has disappeared, which 
is true also of another priory established here 
by Henry V in the year preceding Agin- 
court. 

" Syon Vista " at Kew took a new meaning 
when we learned that at Syon on the opposite 
side of the river was a nunnery, which, legend 
says, was connected by a subfluvial passage 



Kew Gardens and Richmond 75 

with the Carthusian Priory at Schene. This 
priory evidently became corrupted by the in- 
ertia of the Middle Ages, for we read that it 
was several times suppressed and restored be- 
fore its final demolition during Elizabeth's 
reign. 

" Why," asked contemplative Sonia, " is so 
little remaining of the palace when it was here 
in Georgian times; and the Maids of Honor 
Row on Richmond Green was not erected until 
the time of the first George? " 

" Here's why," replied Diana, turning the 
leaves of a guide book: "Queen Anne, who 
had not built anything but hideous gabled 
houses which she should have been ashamed 
to acknowledge, was jealous of Henry VII's 
Fourteen Turrets and therefore pulled part 
of them down. George III, some of whose 
teaspoons we bought in London yesterday, 
went her one better by commanding all the 
buildings to be removed and the ground 
plowed up ! " 

" It seems to me," grunted Sonia, " that 
there is too much history and not enough pal- 
ace. What else came we forth to see? Oh, 
there is the first gazebo I ever saw! " We were 
walking along the shady riverside and had been 
wondering whether we were on Cholmondely 
Walk. Set upon a wall was indeed a real 



76 Ways and Days Out of London 

gazebo — a pleasant surprise which compen- 
sated somewhat for the sparsity of palace. 

Above Riclimond Bridge is a wooded island 
beside which were moored one or two of the 
small black steamers that are typical of the 
Thames. 

" Why do they carry so many extra tires? " 
Diana dreamily inquired, while she watched a 
patient fisherman who did not get a bite. 

" I must ask somebody the name of that dear 
little island," Sonia declared. " I know it must 
have an idyllic name." She stopped a barefoot 
boy and his whistling. 

" The /nsland? Ow, that's Heel Pie." So- 
nia looked wounded; Diana laughed immod- 
eratelJ^ " Twickenham Ait is another name," 
she vouchsafed from her guide-book's lore; 
but she dared not launch the inevitable pun 
when she knew there would be no laugh from 
the disgusted Sonia. Glover Island it was 
after all; and we had yet to see Eel Pie 
Island. 

From any and every point of view Richmond 
Bridge is a thing of beauty; and leaning on its 
balustrade we could not determine whether the 
view up the river or down was the more fair. 
At the top of the bridge stairs we hired a cab 
to take us to the terrace, not knowing how 
near we had been to the Terrace Gardens 




Ob. 



Kew Garde7is and RicJwiond 77 

which occupy the broad slope between that un- 
rivaled terrace and the Thames. 

" No wonder Scott brought poor little 
Jeanie Deans here! " exclaimed Sonia; " hav- 
ing seen it himself he must needs make some 
of his pen children behold it." 

" But you will recall," said Diana, " that to 
Jeanie it meant nothing but ' braw rich feed- 
ing for the cows.' " 

The sun was low and the long shadows of 
the trees fell athwart the emerald lawn's de- 
cline. Like a silver bow bent the river through 
hazy violet of the distant landscape to which 
dipped the great azure arch, flecked with fleecy 
cumuli. The terrace was almost deserted 
save for a stolid nursemaid or so and a whistling 
errand boy who turned to look at the three- 
star view. 

Our cab took us to Richmond Park where 
we elicited the supreme scorn of a young buck 
by pointing a camera at him, as he lay at ease 
in the long grass near the grazing herd. Some 
ancient oaks still rear their heads above the 
younger trees; but many are yielding to the 
relentless grip of age and their bare branches 
cut rugged lines against the tender summer 
sky. Praised be the name of John Lewis, a 
brewer of Richmond, who sued the crown for 
right of carriageway and won, when Princess 



78 Ways and Days Out of London 

Amelia, daughter of George II, excluded the 
pubHc from Richmond Park by building a 
fence around it! 

After tea on the terrace of the Star and Gar- 
ter, which looks down on that same silver 
sweep of the river, our cab brought us back 
to Richmond Terrace, for another ravishing 
of its glorious outlook. He directed our atten- 
tion to Wick House, facing the terrace, which 
had been built as a residence for Sir Joshua 
Reynolds. 

We strolled down through the Terrace G i*- 
dens, pausing at the fountain where the Mar- 
quis of Lansdowne's mansion once stood, and 
coveting another tea at the tiny thatched tea 
house that was once used as a playhouse by 
the children of the Duke of Buccleuch. Buc- 
cleuch House, farther down, has passed from 
the family's possession, happily for those who 
are now permitted to enjoy the gardens for- 
merly surrounded by a ducal wall. A view of 
the river from the sloping gardens was so fair 
that we needs must linger and let it sink deep 
in memory before seeking the inevitable train 
for London. 




CHAPTER VI 



By Coach to Guildford 

GLANCING idly through a guide book in 
quest of interesting places to be seen 
near London, Sonia, who likes the suggestive- 
ness of names, was attracted by that of Guild- 
ford. 

" Here is a place we cannot afford to miss," 
she said, " listen! " 

" ' Guildford is the capital of Surrey. It is 
situated in that depression of the North Downs 
through the River Wey passes.' " 

" What are downs? " asked Diana, looking 
ashamed of her ignorance. 

" I had always supposed they were dunes, but 
it says in here somewhere that they are ' softly 
rounded hills.' Sometimes they are referred to 
as though they were composed of chalk. May 
I read more to you about Guildford? " 

" * Alfred the Great in his will bequeathed 

79 



80 Ways and Days Out of London 

Guildford as a royal demesne to his nephew 
Ethel wald.' Just think of actually seeing a 
place that is identified with Alfred ! " 

" England seems to be as replete with un- 
expected thrills as a Wagner opera. What 
else of Guildford, the hitherto unknown? " 

" ' There may have been a Roman station 
here. During the reign of Edward the Con- 
fessor, Alfred the Atheling, son of Ethelred 
II, was seized here by Godwin's men after 
being lured from France, and his Norman 
attendants to the number of six hundred were 
massacred, which is believed to have formed a 
link in the chain of events leading to Duke 
William's invasion of England.' " 

" I had always supposed," interrupted 
Diana, " that the incendiary William came 
over to conquer England because nothing con- 
querable remained on his side of the Channel 
and he wanted a change of scene and climate 
as a sauce piquante to his pleasant and chival- 
rous pastimes of fighting and firing. So there 
really was a reason — a chain of events; and 
William's Conquest was inspired by a sense of 
duty! I believe I shall yet admire Duke Wil- 
liam, founder of a line of kings and the Blue 
Book." 

" * The most prominent building in Guild- 
ford is the square Norman keep of the old cas- 



By Coach to Guildford 81 

tie, whose ivy-clad walls, ten feet in thick- 
ness, dominate the town and can be seen for 
many miles. Below the castle large caverns 
in the chalk are believed to have connected 
with the crypt under the Angel Hotel.' " 
Sona read on, ignoring the comments of her 
friend. 

" We shall go to Guildford," announced 
Diana. " Now we must go down to the Vic- 
toria and book our seats for the Brighton 
coach. That comes next." 

At the hotel disappointment was hurled upon 
us by an insolent young man who displayed the 
petty tyranny peculiar to petty persons who 
have attained petty power. He controlled the 
disposing of seats for the coaches which ply 
between London and certain nearby places. 
We had known only of that which was driven 
by an American millionaire to Brighton. We 
had invited two English ladies to accompany 
us; and now we were informed with un- 
necessary bluntness that the Venture would 
make but one more run, all the seats having 
been booked weeks in advance. Thus curtly 
were we dismissed. As Diana took up her 
parasol which had rested on the counter, some 
cards caught in its folds. She was about to 
replace them when one was discovered to bear 
the name Guildford. 



82 Ways and Days Out of London 
THE RELIANCE 

Guildford and London Coach 
Leaving Victoria Hotel daily at 10.45 

The autocrat admitted that there was such 
a coach and that its daily trips would continue 
for several weeks. We engaged four places 
for the morrow. With the superb nonchalance 
of his kind he accepted the guinea gold we 
poured into his palm for the privilege of driv- 
ing to Guildford. 

" What name, please? '* 

" Lady Hanford-Burham," said Diana, 
using the name of one of our guests. The 
effect was magical. The tyrant was trans- 
formed to a servility so abject as to be nau- 
seous, y 

On the morrow's golden morn we set forth 
amid a clatter of hoofs and the clear notes of 
the guard's horn, through the throng of Pic- 
cadilly to Kensington, across Hammersmith 
Bridge and so once more out of London. 

The box-seat having been preempted, her 
ladyship and Sonia were assigned places on 
the second seat and ]Miss Hebert sat with 
Diana on the back seat beside the guard, whose 
gold-braided coat of Lincoln green and buff 
beaver hat made him almost as conspicuous as 
did the notes of his long bright horn which 



By Coach to Guildford 83 

merrily wound a way through the thorough- 
fares. 

Facing them were two men who talked of 
horses with the guard, between them all a 
camaraderie born of mutual interest. They 
discussed the roan mare— off-wheeler— mak- 
ing her second trip with the coach. The guard 
turned to the ladies. 

" I 'ope ye are not feeling nervous. There s 
no need, for we've the best driver in England." 
Being assured that the ladies were not in the 
least nervous, he nodded and drew forth the 
horn for another fanfare. The elder of the 
two men on the opposite seat, both of whom 
had Hstened with interest, said to Diana: 
"Do you like coaching as well as motor- 



mg^ 



" That depends upon whether I am coaching 
or motoring," she replied. " To-day I think 
I never did anything more delightful than 

this." 

He twinkled after the manner of elderly 
men when talking to children or young women. 
His companion, ruddy, round-faced, dressed in 
gray tweed, asked ISIiss Hebert if she knew the 
road to Guildford. 

" My home is in Cobham," he said, " I come 
up to my office in London every day. At this 
season I leave home about five and am back 



84 Ways and Days Out of London 

on my farm at eleven usually. I'm a farmer 
and a countryman. Is it not so, Tom? I raise 
shire horses." 

" I suppose you are from New York," said 
the guard to Diana, proud of his perspicacity. 

" Thank you," she rephed, " for not saying 
Boston or Chicago. Having been a New 
Yorker for two hundred and fifty years, I like 
to feel that I look like one." 

He scarcely waited for her to finish, so eager 
was he to tell her that he had been in New 
York. " I drove on the coach from the Hol- 
land House to Ardsley for two seasons. They 
gave me a first prize and a loving cup for blow- 
ing. Yes, you've some good 'orses. The 
'orses on this coach were raised in America — 

Argentine — by Mr. INI . He got three 

blues at the show last night. Perhaps you were 
there?" 

We were now passing beyond Barnes Com- 
mon, where among the furze many children 
were merrily romping ; and here and there men 
lay sleeping as they do in the London parks. 
At Roehampton the horses were changed. All 
the men on the coach climbed down to witness 
this proceeding save one who sat with a woman 
on the same seat as Sonia and Lady Hanford- 
Burham. He, although middle-aged, was quite 
evidently a newly made bridegroom, else surely 



By Coach to Guildford 85 

some of the sparkle of such a day and drive 
must have dissolved his stolid solemnity and the 
self-absorption of this pair. 

When Sonia and her companion would have 
commiserated with their friends on the back 
seat, they were informed that JSIiss Hebert and 
Diana had been pleasantly conversing with 
three strange men. 

" I've a friend in Brooklyn," said the tweed- 
clad one when the coach was rumbling on 
again and the guard, having musically an- 
nounced our coming to whom it might concern, 
replaced the horn in its long basket. " He 
comes over every year for the shooting. Does- 
n't he, Tom? Sometimes he stops but a 
few days; but he says one day's shooting in 
Surrey is worth a longer journej^ Prettiest 
county in England ; isn't it, Tom? " " Tom " 
twinkled at the ladies. " I wonder if you hap- 
pen to know him, miss? His name is Bates." 

Diana believed not. 

" Tom " said he knew a man who went out 
to the States about thirty years ago. His 
name was Dawlinson — Jim Dawlinson. The 
world was so small; could the lady have made 
his acquaintance? The lady requested the 
name of the place in which the friend was re- 
siding. Tom plumbed the deeps of memory 
and announced with a double twinkle : 



86 Ways and Days Out of London 

" Springfield." 

" Springfield in Ohio, Illinois, or Massachu- 
setts? " asked Diana, wondering if she could 
name all the States containing a Springfield. 

"Eh? I do not know. Just Springfield, 



miss." 



We were crossing Putney Heath, a broad 
expanse of waste land, thick with gorse and 
bracken and evidently destined to become a 
part of the monster city whose tentacles are 
every year farther reaching. There was an 
old prophecy that Hampstead would one day 
be the center of London; and although the 
growth is greater in that direction there are 
indications " out Putney way " that this beau- 
tiful heath — where Linnaus, seeing for the first 
time the golden glory of the gorse fell to his 
knees in thankfulness — may be seized by land 
agents and apportioned in patches to London 
wagemen. The gorse, which is now cultivated 
in Sweden as carefully as the American velvet 
plant (mullein) is in English gardens, shall 
on Putney Heath become but a tradition. 

" Over there, ladies, on Putney Hill, is 
Bowling Green, the home of the ' heaven-born 
statesman ' — Pitt," added Tom, seeing Diana's 
ignorance of the sobriquet. She thought of 
the " heavy news of Austerlitz," and said: 

" I have always wished he could have with- 



By Coach to Guildford 87 

stood that calamity and survived the decade 
between it and Waterloo. I should like to 
have been an Englishman when that name 
rang through the land ! " 

On our left Wimbledon Common was glid- 
ing by, a great stretch of green touched here 
and there with the gold of the gorse patches. 

" I am so glad this is the right season for 
gorse," said Diana. " I have always feared 
it might not be in bloom when I should come 
to England." The four English persons 
laughed. 

" I see you have not heard the old saying," 
say the tweed one. " ' Kissing's out of season 
when the gorse is out of bloom.' " 

Afterwards we learned that this was once 
one of the most dangerous of the commons out- 
lying London. Here Jerry Avershawe dis- 
tinguished himself as a " Knight of the Road " 
and caused hearts to quake and purses to dis- 
appear when post chaises came this way. In 
the year of his majority this mock-heroic youth 
possessed of a melodramatic fame was exe- 
cuted on Kennington Common, where Wesley 
and Whitefield were to preach in a later day 
and where park-loving London has preserved 
a breathing place of much beauty. 

Kingston's antiquity is genuine but not con- 
spicuous. Its electric tramways and heteroge- 



88 Ways and Days Out of London 

neous buildings are of to-day. Imagination 
falters when bidden to picture the scene 
wherein the Witanagemot proclaimed the sev- 
eral kingdoms of the Heptarchy to be united 
under the dominion of Egbert of Wessex in 
the same year that the iron crown of the Lom- 
bards was placed upon the head of his friend 
Charlemagne. The coronation stone of the 
Saxon kings may still be seen near Kingston's 
market place. 

" We used to change the 'orses 'ere," said 
the guard, " but the /nnns aren't what they 
used to be, so we go on to Surbiton." His 
pronunciation was delightful to Diana who 
liked the flavor of his Bow Bells inflection quite 
as much as she admired his efforts to conceal 
it. She was amused also at the point of view 
which made him declare to the gentlemen oppo- 
site that he did not see what use the trams 
could be unless they had been designed to spoil 
driving. 

" Hello ! Johnny," he called in a hearty voice 
to a tiny boy in the street, " 'ow's your dog 
to-day? " 

" Why don't you blow? " shrHled the httle 
voice wistfully. 

Out came the horn as we whisked around a 
corner and we looked back upon the utter de- 
hght glowing in the small face. 







c/2 



as 









By Coach to Guildford 89 

The Fox-and-Hounds at Surbiton faces the 
Thames, from which it is separated only by 
the width of the road. The river here is so busy 
as to remind one of the city's proximity, while 
the long shady roads would proclaim it far dis- 
tant. The inn's pleasant courtyard, gay with 
flowers and green with vines, was bustling with 
hostlers. On the opposite side of the river is 
the park of Hampton Court. Diana descended 
to photograph the coach. As the guard helped 
her to regain her place he told her that the gen- 
tleman in the gray tweed was a Mr. Belford 
and that " Tom " was Mr. Sands, both wealthy 
Surrey squires. 

Esher is pleasantly situated on an upland. 
The village is small and possesses many charms 
for foreign eyes. Its rural quiet seems infi- 
nitely remote from London, and indeed is 
scarcely known save to those who have bicy- 
cled, motored, or driven through its shady 
highway. Moreover, it is so unpretentious 
that cycles or motors but rarely pause long 
enough on their way to inquire its name. 
Here a beautiful young girl who had been lean- 
ing on a gate watching for the coach came out 
with blush and smile to give a rose to the guard, 
who swung low to receive it, and no doubt said 
something to cause the roselike blush on her 
cheek. All day the flower glowed in his coat. 



90 Ways and Days Out of London 

The Bear at Esher is one of the old coaching 
inns. The two pink effigies of bears on the 
parapet announce its name unmistakably. 
While the horses were being watered Mr. Bel- 
ford told the ladies of a pair of boots highly 
treasured by the landlord as having been worn 
by the postboy who drove the fugitive Louis 
Philippe's chaise to Claremont. Even if the 
traveler had been as "great " as was his pon- 
derous body, surely the postboy's boots would 
have received no sanctification. Yet if they 
give joy to the landlord and celebrity to his inn 
— why not? 

Sonia's attention was directed to Claremont. 
She needed not to be reminded of Clive's asso- 
ciation wdth the estate; and, knowing her Ma- 
caulay, she remembered that " the peasantry of 
Surrey looked with a mysterious horror on the 
stately house which was rising at Claremont 
and whispered that the great wicked lord had 
ordered the walls to be made so thick in order 
to keep out the devil who would one day carry 
him away bodily." 

It is said that they still tell at Esher of 
Prince Leopold's parsimony, a habit which he 
had brought from Saxe-Coburg when he mar- 
ried Charlotte, daughter of the fourth George, 
and came to live at Claremont, then a prop- 
erty of the crown. What would England's 



By Coach to Guildford 91 

history have been had Charlotte Hved to be 
queen of the realm, and Leopold, instead of 
wearing the crown of Belgium, had become 
prince consort; and there might have been no 
Queen Victoria ! In the little church of which 
we caught a glimpse behind the Bear is a royal 
pew, reminiscent of the royal pair. 

At Lower Green is the picturesque en- 
trance to Esher Place, a private park which 
has some historic interest and a glade of ancient 
beeches. William of Wayneflete, Bishop of 
Winchester, erected his episcopal palace here 
in the fifteenth century. While Wolsey bore 
the same title he partially rebuilt Waynflete's 
structure, shortly after the completion of 
Hampton Court hard by. It was his archi- 
tectural swan song and became virtually his 
prison. Of this but little is left — only the 
brick gatehouse. Mr. Belford told us that re- 
cently much of the ivy had been removed from 
the building. " An ugly place at best, I call 
it," he said. 

Said the Duke of Norfolk: 

Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal; who commands 

you 
To render up the great seal presently 
Into our hands, and to confine yourself 
To Asher-house, my lord of Winchester's, 
Till you hear further from his highness. 



92 Ways and Days Out of London 

Then when the deposed prelate accepted his 
doom he said: 

So, farewell to the little good you bear me. 
Farewell ! a long farewell to all my greatness ! 
This is the state of man : To-day he puts forth 
The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, 
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him ; 
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost; 
And — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely 
His greatness is a-ripening — nips his root. 
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd. 
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, 
This many summers in a sea of glory ; 
But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride 
At length broke under me ; and now has left me, 
Weary and old with service, to the mercy 
Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. 
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye ! 
I feel my heart new-open'd : O ! how wretched 
Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favours! 
There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, 
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin. 
More pangs and fears than wars or women have; 
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, 
Never to hope again. 

And again: 

O Cromwell, Cromwell! 
Had I but served my God with half the zeal 
I serv'd my king. He would not in mine age 
Have left me naked to mine enemies. 



By Coach to Guildford 93 

" Now, ladies," exclaimed the guard, watch 
in hand, as the last of Claremont's pines were 
passing; "we start on the Fair Mile. Time 
it if you like, sirs." The road pointed toward 
the horizon as steadily as a Roman highway; 
and at the end of the mile the men exchanged 
nods and words of satisfaction at having ac- 
complished a marvel of speed. The driver, too, 
turned in his seat and said to the guard: " Best 
ever! " 

" Now we are coming to Cobham," said Mr. 
Belford with the honest pride of a squire in 
his county and town. " We have shot over 
every rod of land about here; haven't we, 
Tom?" 

Tom twinkled. 

" My friend Tom, here," continued Mr. Bel- 
ford, " rides to hounds every day in the season. 
You must be nearly seventy, aren't you, 
Tom? " 

" Seventy-two," amended Tom proudly. 

Now and then during the morning the guard 
had greeted children and women along the 
road. " He is worse than any sailor," laughed 
Mr. Belford. " He has a girl in every cot- 
tage." 

" I fancy you cannot throw many stones," 
said Diana, who likes to read people by their 
unconscious revelations and had observed that 



94 Ways and Days Out of London 

old and young, carters and gentlemen, sought 
opportunity to greet him. 

At the White Lion — couchant — in Cobham 
we obtained fresh horses. While we waited a 
motor drove up. Mr. Belford, who had been 
standing on the inn steps, exclaimed : 

" There's the wife and Harry ! " He greeted 
them eagerly, and, glancing toward the coach, 
evidently informed Mrs. Belford of the pres- 
ence of Americans. She also glanced up with 
some interest. 

" I say! " said her ladyship, standing to chat 
with Miss Hebert and Diana, " I call this 
rather nice, you know." 

" Rather," responded the English lady thus 
addressed. Sonia and Diana exchanged radi- 
ant glances and a few expressive gestures. 

'* The wife has told me not to talk too much," 
said Mr. Belford when he rejoined us; "I 
wonder if all the time is too much? " 

" My place is down this road on the left at 
Stoke D'Abernon. We call it ' The Tilt,' " 
was his reply to a question from Miss Hebert. 
" Here is our hospital. Perhaps j^ou ladies 
will give us a shilling toward its support? 
Thank you! Not a penny more. The town 
would not give us the land and we owe the hos- 
pital to the generosity of Lady Z ." 

The long, low red-roofed concrete building 




And 710W we were driving down the steep High Street of Guildford. 



By Coach to Guildford 95 

above the road looked like a pleasant place in 
which to be nursed back to health. 

" That is just like him! " said Tom; " always 
gives the credit to somebody else. James Bel- 
ford made this hospital what it is." 

" Now we are coming to my shooting," in- 
terposed Mr. Belford in some embarrassment; 
*' I've a caravan in those woods on the right 
where I sleep under the pines every Saturday 
night with the Doctor — my favorite dog." 

Tom said something about the Ritz Hotel. 
" That is what he calls my caravan," explained 
the other. 

" You would understand whv, miss," said 
Tom, " if you should ever be invited there to a 
hunt breakfast." 

" Who's j^our trainer now? " asked the 
guard. " Slocum? Never heard of him. 
Where did you get him? " 

" I ran across him when he was broke and 
took him on. Best trainer I ever had." 

At the Talbot in Ripley the horses were 
halted for drink and sponging. Have you seen 
the Horticultural Gardens here?" asked ]Mr. 
Belford of Miss Hebert. " Your American 
friends must be shown through. There are 
no finer ones in England." He scribbled the 
superintendent's name on one of his cards and 
said they would receive every attention. 



96 Ways and Days Out of London 

And now we were driving down the steep 
High Street of Guildford, the royal demesne 
of Ethelwald, and preserving even unto this 
day the charm of England's older towns. Con- 
spicuous in the foreground was the clock on 
the Guildhall. The coach passed a Tudor 
building which we supposed to have been Arch- 
bishop Abbot's Hospital for " decayed trades- 
men and their widows." At the Lion Hotel 
we hurried down to lunch, determined to dis- 
pose thereof as quickly as possible, so as to 
leave time afterwards for seeing somewhat of 
this interesting town. We found the men of 
the coach at a long table where places had been 
reserved for us. The bridal couple ate in stony 
silence at another table. 

When we entered the room, the men, hav- 
ing already begun the meal, rose until we were 
seated — all save one. He of the box-seat, busy 
with a slice from a cold joint, did not even 
glance up. Diana mentally tagged him a peer 
of the realm. Conversation was general and 
the Reliance's driver, blonde and bronzed, sit- 
ting at the head of the table genially engaged 
therein. Gradually the stolid one thawed, 
lifted his empurpled visage, and adjusted his 
monocle. He was the type of Briton who on 
the stage is always made to stroke his mustache 
and exclaim: "Haw!" The luncheon was 



By Coach to Guildford 97 

good, the conversation delightful; but Sonia 
and Diana withdrew as soon as they could. 
Wishing to save later hurry they stopped to 
pay the hotel charges and were told there were 
none. 

" I do not understand," said Diana. 

" Mr. Belford has i:)aid for your party," was 
the smiling rejoinder. This was embarrassing, 
but its intent we knew to be most kind and hos- 
pitable ; and later we sought an opportunity to 
thank him. 

Now we had but a short time in which to 
see the things we could not forego, and accord- 
ingly set forth to view the square keep of 
Guildford's castle at a pace which evidently 
startled from their noontide siesta the citizens 
peacefully resting in the castle's garden. This 
keep is smaller and somewhat less imposing 
than that of Rochester; but as no two cathe- 
drals are wholly alike, so, we were learning, are 
no two of England's ruined castles entirely 
similar. We had no time to dawdle and dream 
here as we did at Rochester; but we had seen 
enough to convince us that Guildford is worthy 
of a much longer visit. 

Happily St. Mary's Church was open. Af- 
ter marveling at its crude yet enduring con- 
struction of chalk and flint, we entered the 
quiet little building and wondered if the curi- 



98 Ways and Days Out of London 

ous old paintings which decorate the Baptist's 
chapel were, as we had read, from the hand of 
William of Florence during the middle of the 
thirteenth century. The bizarre carvings of 
the roof we liked because they tokened the 
humorous, though grotesque fancy of the Nor- 
man sculptors. 

Mr. Belford had told us of the cattle and 
horse market held in Guildford semi-annually, 
also of the lamb fair on Tuesdays from Easter 
to Whitsuntide. The ordinary " corn " market 
is held on Saturdays. 

" The next time we go to a market to^vn, do 
let us try to be there on market day! I have 
never seen an English market, and I am sure 
Covent Garden cannot be half so nice as one 
of these little country towns." Thus the en- 
thusiastic Sonia. 

There are other churches in Guildford said 
to be worthy a visit from the lover of the 
past. 

We had never seen a chained library and had 
rather vague notions as to what it might be. 
There being still a quarter of an hour before 
the starting of the Reliance we went to the 
grammar school, but were unable to obtain ad- 
mission. A photograph of the library pro- 
vided but slight compensation ; for surely books 
so precious as to be thus safeguarded must be 







§^ 



3 



=0 ' 



By Coach to Guildford 99 

indeed a feast for lovers of rare editions, like 
ourselves. 

" My only consolation in leaving this fasci- 
nating royal demesne," said Diana, " when we 
have but begun to explore it, is that we may 
include it in our list of geographical friendships 
and anticipate visiting it again in the near 
future. Who loves an acquaintance who has 
no reserves and become familiar during a few 
hours? " 

The River Wey with its " handsome stone 
bridge of five arches " ; St. Catherine's Hall, 
across the bridge where, having leisurely as- 
cended, the wide view might be enjoyed — say, 
at sundown — after the little ruined chapel on 
its summit had been inspected; these were 
among friend Guildford's reserves. 

Nearby were Elizabethan mansions, Nor- 
man churches, literary and artistic pilgrimages, 
all serenely reposing in the beauty of Surrey's 
North Downs. 

There was a bustle of activity in front of the 
Lion Hotel; the smiling guard, in whose coat 
still glowed the maid of Esher's rose, waited 
to assist us to our places; the English ladies, 
our neglected, but also smiling guests, compli- 
mented our punctuality and as three deep 
notes sounded from the town clock we set forth 
for London. At Cobham the monocled box- 



100 Ways and Days Out of London 

sitter alighted and after discussing the horses 
being put to the coach, drove off in a dog cart. 
As Sonia took his place she asked the driver 
if he were a — personage. 

" Yes, indeed, miss ; he is M. F. H. for this 
district." Sonia wondered whether the initials 
indicated " Member from Hurlingham " or 
" Monocle Fixed Habit." Lady Hanford- 
Burham leaned forward and whispered: 
" Master of the Fox Hounds, you know." 

Here also Mr. Belford and his friend Tom 
left us. 

There were still a few thrills in reserve for 
Sonia before the day ended. Back in London, 
as we were passing Olympia, where motors, 
coaches, and cabs were bearing away the dis- 
persing horse-show audience the Reliance was 
pulled up at a signal from a distinguished-look- 
ing man in a motor. " Mr. Cowles, who had 
tooled so skillfully all day, gave his lines to the 
newcomer and literally took a back seat. The 
horses, sensitive to the hand which controlled 
them, instantly felt the difference. Mr. 
Cowles's calm Anglo-Saxon control had been 
replaced by the nervous grasp of a southron. 

Never had Piccadilly sparkled more bril- 
liantly than on this summer evening. The 
police directed vrith perfect ease the four steady 
lines of traffic in each direction. Several times 



By Coach to Guildford 101 

our coach was obliged to come to a stop and 
each time Soma's heart leaped lest the halt be 
too late to save the horses from injury. Mr. 
Cowles had told her that their owner, who was 
now driving, required that the coach return to 
the Victoria punctually if the horses were 
killed in order to accomplish it. Sonia at the 
moment was not sufficiently logical to realize 
that if the horses were killed in the attempt, 
there would be less probability of punctuality. 
To the golden, triumphant notes of the horn 
we drew rein at the hotel precisely at the ap- 
pointed moment. 



s^S^SJ^ 




CHAPTER VII 

Ely 

ELY is not for the map swallower who, 
bound Scotland ward while " doing " 
Great Britain, stops off at Lincoln or pauses at 
York long enough to catch his breath — and 
lose it. Ely is for the dilettante who, on his 
first " grand tour," has wolfed a few cathedral 
towns which lay along the prescribed route 
and bolted such dry necessities as Stratford- 
on-Avon or Glasgow where the speed limit has 
not yet been determined, and who, having dis- 
covered the charm of travel sans itinerary 
craves a more leisurely repast of sight-seeing 
and forsakes the highways to invite his soul far 
from the dust and din. 

We were unhurried. Our comfortable Lon- 
don lodgings to which we might return when- 
soever we chose as to a home made bj^-ay ad- 
venturings the more enjoyable because we were 

102 



Ely 103 

spared the possible discomforts of chance inns ; 
and to travel minus " boxes " is to travel in 
comfort. 

For once, however, we deemed it wiser to 
remain overnight, Ely and Cambridge being 
but a few miles apart, and neither could be 
swallowed whole in a few hours even by the 
most voracious of ostrich- Americans. 

Thanks to our ignorance of Inner Circle 
and Outer Circle accommodations in London's 
Underground Railway, we had waited at ]Man- 
sion House Station so long as to lose the mid- 
morning train for Ely, which place we could 
not now reach until after noon. While we 
waited at the Great Eastern terminal Diana 
bethought her of certain signs we had seen in 
the railway carriages and asked a pink-cheeked 
policeman how we could obtain a luncheon 
basket. He said we might wire ahead — or the 
guard on the train would do so for us — and 
the basket would be ready for us at any station 
we chose. We were only going to Ely ? Then 
we might step into the station restaurant at 
the bottom of this platform and order a bas- 
ket put into our carriage. We glanced over 
the tariff shown us bv the restaurant's bewhis- 
kered head waiter and ordered a basket for two 
at half a croMTi each, very skeptical as to its 
probable contents. Scarcely were we seated in 



104 Ways and Days Out of London 

a brown-cushioned third-class carriage — our 
handbags tenderly placed in the rack by a 
porter — and asking of each other why any- 
body rode first class when the only discover- 
able difference other than price was — to us 
as yet — merely in the color of the upholstery, 
behold a cheery boy bearing a willow hamper 
which he knew by some unimaginable instinct 
was ours. While the train bore us out of the 
grime of London into the green of England 
we proclaimed the luncheon basket's con- 
tents to be a Lucullus feast. The compart- 
ment in which we rode had been locked by 
the guard and we enjoyed our easily obtained 
privacy. 

" It would seem," said Diana, meditatively 
dismembering her portion of chicken, at which 
she only glanced occasionally to prevent its 
slipping from the plate — " it would seem to me 
that the Normans, whom I had always believed 
to be only fighters, did nothing but build 
churches and castles. Did you notice the little 
square-towered church over there among the 
trees?" 

" They went out now and then to a hack- 
fest when they wished to assert their capacity 
to conquer or perhaps merely to keep their 
weapons from the rust of disuse; and when 
they were tired or there was nothing left of 




rf" 




The delicate curves of the carven stone stairway leading to the organ loft. 



My 105 

the enemy but the space it occupied they built 
churches to the glory of God as atonement for 
such trifling offenses as burning, looting, and 
so forth which might have been committed dur- 
ing said hackfest. The loot was so rich they 
had to build castles to contain it." 

" If I had been a British subject in those 
days, I should have quietly folded my tents and 
moved into Normandy. It must have been 
depopulated after 1066; and surely England 
was overcrowded." 

The town of Ely exists mainly because of its 
cathedral. And like many of England's ca- 
thedrals this one stands upon a commanding 
hill, one of the few in the fenlands of Cam- 
bridgeshire. 

A summer shower had overtaken us. We 
had not been sufficiently forethoughtful as to 
determine upon an inn. The only 'bus at the 
station appertained to the " Bell," and as the 
vehicle's appearance commended the inn's 
management, we yielded our handbags to the 
polite solicitations of the Bell's " boots." Up 
a steep narrow street we were borne, past many 
houses of old plaster and age-blackened beams 
to pause at length before the plain front of the 
Bell, whose window ledges bore boxes of 
geraniums in bloom. We engaged an " apart- 
ment," declined luncheon and, as rain was still 



106 Ways and Days Out of London 

falling heavily, the 'bus bore us the short re- 
maining distance to the cathedral. 

Trusting that we might later have an oppor- 
tunity for more than a glance at the exterior, 
we hastened into the Gallilee porch at the 
west end. 

" I wish," said Sonia, pensively regarding 
the porch's details, " that restoration need not 
be so patent or so complete. Almost would I 
prefer crumbling ruins like Rome or Karnak, 
which permit some play to imagination, to this 
painstaken patchwork of Sir Gilbert — or was 
it Sir Christopher? — which tells the whole story 
without the charm of personality." 

" Evidently the people of England do not 
share your preference," Diana returned. 
" This lancet decoration really is beautiful." 

The high Norman windows of clerestory 
and triforium but emphasize the great height 
and narrowness of the nave which is unlighted 
below and seemed to us coldly austere. Per- 
haps had the sun streamed in through the lofty 
arches the effect would have been pleasanter. 

After Rochester the dimensions of this ca- 
thedral seemed to us vaster than some of those 
on the continent which we knew to be larger. 

The most beautiful portion of the interior 
in our unlearned but interested judgment was 
the octagon " lantern " which renders impossi- 



Ely 107 

ble any regret for the fall of the central tower 
that preceded it. And how fitting that Alan 
de Walsingham, whose " supreme constructive 
genius led to the building " of the present tower 
and lantern, should have been buried beneath 
this monument to his masterly ability! 

Flos operatorum dum vixit corpore solus 

Hie jacet ante chorum Prior entumulatus Alanus. 

This is Walsingham's epitaph; but the sup- 
posed place of his long rest, just in front of 
where the stone Norman choir screen had been 
until its demolition about a hundred and fifty 
years ago, is marked by a once brass-inlaid 
stone showing a mitred figure bearing a cro- 
sier. In the various rearrangement of stones 
monumental and structural it is quite probable 
that some worthy bishop or prior has lost his 
rightful slab and that of the unprotesting Alan 
may have been destroyed. Surely, however, 
nothing could destroy the repose of him who 
conceived such an architectural triumph, what- 
soever slab might be superimposed upon the 
tomb in which he has lain about four hundred 
years. ^ 

It is deporable that no fragment of the Nor- 
man screen was left or reproduced when the 
choir was removed to the east end of the build- 
ing. Yet it is fortunate that the choir was not 



108 Ways and Days Out of London 

left there, for its present position is the most 
imposing possible. 

" The ' splendid timber work ' in the upper 
part of the lantern is a pleasanter means of 
producing a crick in the back of the neck than 
a fifty-story building on JNIanhattan Island," 
said Diana, temporarily disloyal to home. 

In the transepts are substantial remains of 
the labors of those sturdy masons who followed 
hard upon the heels of William of Normandy. 
Traces, too, of the color which once warmed the 
grim walls are discernible. It is a far cry even 
from their time to the ancient beginning of 
this cathedral's history. 

Three years after St. Augustine founded 
Rochester Cathedral he had journeyed as far 
as the Isle of Ely in his missionary zeal and 
established a church at Cratendune, a mile dis- 
tant from the present site. This assertion 
comes from Friar Thomas, and although noth- 
ing remains to prove it, to disprove is equally 
impossible. Sixty-six years later Etheldreda, 
a daughter of Anna, King of East Angha — 
who had received the isle of Ely as a marriage 
portion when she became wife to Tonbert, 
Ealdorman of the South Fenmen and, upon 
a second marriage with Egfrid, son of Nor- 
thumbria's king, was dowried with large 
estates in that kingdom — was persuaded by 



Ely 109 

Wilfrid, Bishop of York, to devote all of her 
possessions to religious purposes. A few years 
after the second marriage she forsook her 
northern lands and came to Ely's Isle, where 
she founded a monastery that she might live in 
seclusion and religious devotion. She was, 
naturally, its first abbess; although she per- 
mitted the establishment to house monks as well 
as nuns. At her death in 678 her sister Sex- 
burga continued her work. Some years later, 
the white marble sarcophagus which contained 
Etheldreda's body was placed in the Saxon 
church which had been erected on the site of 
the present cathedral; and for almost a thou- 
sand years her tomb was the bourne of religious 
pilgrims from far and near. With Ethel- 
dreda we are hand in hand when we stand be- 
fore the little cross erected by her in memory 
of Ovinus, her faithful steward. 

The Danes, fierce ravagers of England's 
peace, bore their brands as far as Ely and here 
committed one of their orgies of fire and sword. 
Patient England rebuilded here as elsewhere, 
promptly but more wisely. 

After the Danes' depredation King Alfred, 
the gentle and beloved, founded here a college 
of priests. A century later it became a Bene- 
dictine monastery, and in 1071 Edgar, an Athe- 
ling who might have been King of England 



110 Ways and Days Out of London 

had he Hved, and who had enlisted the support 
of the abbey, was obliged after a prolonged de- 
fense under Hereward — " the last of the Eng- 
lish " — to surrender this last Saxon stronghold 
to Duke William. Under Abbot Simeon, a 
kinsman of William, the castle and cathedral 
builder, the present minster was begun. 

The " boldly clustered marble pier with its 
detached shafts," so praised by Professor Free- 
man, we did not admire as much as the massive 
strength of Rochester's round columns. 

One or two memorial plates of modern date 
prove conclusively the absence of humor which 
characterized our British forebears, whose 
quaint phraseology was nevertheless quite sin- 
cere, be it supposed. One states that — 

In this place lies ye body of 
Richard Elliston 

Ay of such uncommon Endowments singular Modesty 
Sweetness of Temper engaging Behaviour as could 

not but inspire 
His Relations and friends with the most pleasing 

Hopes 
But alas all these were defeated in an instant by an 
Unhappy Death occasioned by the Kick of a Horse 
August 4th 1744. In the 13th year of his Age. 

Another smacks of romance and marital de- 
votion : 




* fo 

H 



O 






Ehj 111 

Near this place lieth the Body of 
Dame Maetha 

Daughter of Mr. Pennington of SufFolke 

Rehct of Robert Mingay Esqr. and wife of 

Sir Rogee Jenyxs 

Who put up this for her. 

She died in Anno 17 04 and according to 

her desire 

Interred in the Vault here with her first husband. 

While Sonia bemoaned inaudibty the vandal- 
ism that tore out the memorial brasses from 
the pavement to the south of the choir, Diana 
was assiduously copjdng mason marks from the 
stones near the base of a wall column. 

" I don't believe they are genuine," she whis- 
pered, " but I Hke to think they may be." 

A clergyman was showing two men about 
the cathedral. We caught occasional bits of 
his information and longed for more, but had 
not temerity to venture nearer. We stepped 
out into a corner of the churchyard bounded 
on three sides by the walls of the building. A 
verger approached and called our attention to 
some details in the decoration of windows. He 
said he was the oldest of El5'''s present bedes- 
men. The clergjTnan we had seen was one of 
the canons. 



112 Ways and Days Out of London 

" I hope he won't go off," said Sonia, " I'd 
hke to ask him some questions, but I am afraid 
he might not be wilhng to answer them." 

" So you have not, then, the courage to face 
the canon's mouth? " returned Diana. 

A few moments later courage and canon 
were both forgotten. We had found all the 
beauty and interest we could wish in the ex- 
quisite little chantries of bishops West and 
Alcock, grotto-like specimens of the elaborate 
stone carvings of the Decorated period ; in the 
delicate curves of the carven stone stairway 
leading to the organ loft and of some of the 
tombs. Wood carving, too, in the matter of 
choir stalls as well as up aloft in the lantern 
adds its dominant note to the arpeggio of Ely's 
beauty. 

" When I looked at the Cromwell pictures 
in the House of Commons and listened to Sir 
Robert's eulogy of that bold warrior I felt 
that my schoolgirl dislike of him was un- 
just; but when I think of him striding at the 
head of a mob through this cathedral, too 
uncouth to remove his hat, too unreasoning to 
know that this was just as truly the spirit house 
of God as any dissenting chapel, I feel a hate 
for him as cold and relentless as those icy rages 
which Richard Yea and Nay knew so well. 
Fancy," exclaimed Diana; "his daring to 







Si 

o 
a, 









■Si 

=0 






^ 



Ely 113 

stable his horses in this Lady Chapel, every 
corbel and medallion of which is so sacredly 
beautiful!" 

" I always think of Oliver Cromwell as un- 
clean," responded Sonia. " His person in 
every picture I have ever seen concerning him 
always suggests an unshaven, badly tailored 
fanatic whose mind stood in greater need of 
cold tubbing than his body." 

Of the old cloisters enough remains to give 
free rein to fancy; and the prior's doorway is 
the most elaborate bit of Norman decoration 
we had yet seen. 

The rain had ceased. As we emerged from 
the vaulty coldness of the cathedral the warm 
air, sweet with rain-steeped perfume, greeted 
like a caress. Around and about the grounds 
we strolled, peered through the fence at quiet 
graves among the yews and joyed in masses of 
tall pink valerian self-sown amid the deep moss 
upon an ancient Gothic wall. 

The custom of the country is usually a good 
one. We had learned to welcome the tea hour. 
The cheerful cup was set before us in a mu- 
seum-like upper chamber in an old house on the 
steep High Street. 

Some of the miscellaneous contents of the 
room were antique; the rest were merely an- 
tiquated. But when we saw dragging chains 



114 Ways and Bays Out of London 

which had been dug up from a Roman road 
nearby, and dozens of horseshoes worn thin by 
Albion's flinty roads nearly two thousand years 
ago and buried until now, we forgot that Ethel- 
dreda's days were " old," in recalling the clank 
of Cffisar's legions on their northward march. 

At the bottom of the street we found a canal- 
like river which proved to be the Ouse. 

" I wonder why so many of England's rivers 
have but one syllable? Colne, Dart, Thames, 
Exe, Wye " 

" What are all those white things over there 
against the fence? " asked Sonia. " They 
must be osiers drying for baskets and chairs," 
she hazarded. 

" How restful it all is! That woman in the 
boat looks as if she had never hurried in her 
life. Is there such a place as London? " sighed 
Diana. " Thaulow should have painted these 
red roofs reflected in the water." 

We walked along the narrow path beside the 
river and crossed the arched bridge for a bet- 
ter view of the cathedral upon its hill, so sur- 
prising a feature of this level landscape. We 
should have liked to know where stood the cas- 
tle which a bishop of Ely had erected for the 
Empress Maud during her war with Stephen, 
but there was none to tell. 

" I think," said Diana, " that the present 




The prcsetit peace is the more palpable because of what has been. 



Ely 115 

peace of a place where bitterest battles have 
occurred is the more palpable because of what 
has been." 

These nether lands of Britain need no wind- 
mills to enhance their broad tranquillity. The 
great dome of the sky meets the distant low 
horizon in a haze of pearl and silver. 

When we ascended again into the town we 
caught a glimpse of the battlemented turrets 
of the cathedral's west end and were struck 
by its resemblance to some medieval schloss 
built for protection rather than as a pacific 
approach to a temple. 

Early in the morning we arose to walk in 
the cathedral park and to find the Oliver Crom- 
well house in the town. It faces the village 
green, and is far more humble in appearance 
than one would expect a residence of the stren- 
uous Protector to be. 

From each new point of view Alan's lan- 
tern is more impressive than before; from the 
river at evening, from our windows while it 
shimmered in moonlit mystery and the white 
veil of morning, from the broad meadows of 
the park and from the early train to Cambridge 
the beauty of " the only Gothic dome in exist- 
ence " was less a thing of chiseled stone than of 
spiritual exaltation made manifest. 




CHAPTER VIII 



Cambridge 

AT last a market day! Instead of booths 
Mm, strung along half a dozen streets, how- 
ever, as in Switzerland, Cambridge's market 
was spread in a square and presented a gay 
galaxy of color. We should have liked to buy 
a chicken whose legs and wings were demurely 
crossed and decorated with greens. Sonia, 
lover of baskets and cheerful bearer of bur- 
dens, actually offered to carry home provisions 
for Sunday dinner in order to justify the pur- 
chase of an immoderately large basket. 

" You know we always have a slice from 
Mrs. Dodson's joint on Sunday. Buy the 
basket if you must; but I'll warrant you will 
find more tempting things to fill it than these 
delectable strawberries and lettuces." Thus 
Diana. 

Ely's quietude had been restful. Cambridge 

116 







13 

3 



Cambridge 117 

was bustling with all sorts of activity. There 
was a gala atmosphere in the crowds that was 
not induced by market day alone. College 
boys wearing hideous broad-striped blazers 
were everywhere. With most of them were 
girls, not so daintily dressed as American girls, 
but pretty as are youth and happiness the world 
over. 

Scarcely had we turned away from the mar- 
ket ere we forgot its incendiary effect upon the 
money in our purses. The window of a china 
shop displayed tea sets decorated with the 
arms of the various colleges in the university. 
Diana's petty cash was readily losing its bal- 
ance while she counted the cost in dollars of a 
fourteen-shilling tea set. Sonia, strong in 
her self-control now that the baskets were 
well behind, laid firm hold upon her friend's 
arm. 

"Did we come here to see the university or 
to buy china? " she asked. Diana closed her 
purse and was saved. 

" We can stop here on our way to the station 
this afternoon. Then we should not have to 
carry it all day," she compromised. 

We entered the quadrangle of Corpus 
Christi and the china shop fell to limbo. Black- 
gray walls on all sides made no architectural 
pretense, yet bespoke a dignity, an atmosphere 



118 Ways and Days Out of London 

of intellectuality such as can only result from 
age and long accustom. Every window — and 
there were many — bore upon its sill a box of 
scarlet geraniums. The bright flowers pre- 
cluded a too great solemnity and the whole 
effect liked us well. 

" I wish there were only one college in Cam- 
bridge," said Sonia. " This is so nice I should 
like to Hnger indefinitely and admire it. That 
passage seems to lead into another court." In 
the old court we stood breathless with surprise 
and delight, for here the original structure, 
five hundred and fifty years old, surround- 
ed us. 

Pembroke came next. In its " quad " we be- 
came enthusiastic over a beautiful clock tower. 
A spectacled man of the hirsute sort that re- 
sembles a Skye dog was pottering about some 
flower beds. When politely interrogated as to 
whether we might photograph the clock tower, 
he looked as though he were going to bark in 
the shrill yet mushy voice we knew he must 
have. 

"It is not customary," he said in a manner 
he probably supposed expressive of profes- 
sorial dignity. 

From the ivy-clad inner court of Pembroke 
we caught a glimpse of the gardens which we 
dared not enter, lest the Skye come worrying 



Cambridge 119 

at our heels, though we longed to see Spenser's 
mulberry tree. 

In the Fitzwilliam Museum — with its classic 
facade — there are a few fine paintings : a Rem- 
brandt portrait of himself, a Palma Vecchio 
Venus and Cupid, Titian's Venus and the Lute 
Player, and one of the best Veroneses out of 
Italy, Hermes, Herse, and Agraulos. An 
exhibition of old English colored " comic " 
prints drove us, after a glance or two, in loath- 
ing from the hideous vulgarity of the eight- 
eenth century. We asked to see the museum's 
rich collection of autograph music and illumi- 
nated missals, but were told that these could 
not be shown to visitors unaccompanied by 
graduates of the university. 

Peterhouse, as St. Peter's College is famil- 
iarly called, was sho^n us by a guide who said 
this was the oldest college of them all. It was 
founded in 1257 by Hugh de Balsham, a 
bishop of Ely. The history of Cambridge is 
interwoven with that of Ely. Ely's bishop is 
still visitor of four colleges in the university 
and chooses one of two candidates named by 
the " Society " for mastership in St. Peter's. 
The architecture of St. Peter's is not imposing, 
externally. The chapel occupying the center 
of the quad — which, being inclosed on but three 
sides by the college buildings is therefore not 



120 Ways and Days Out of London 

a quad — is dark and seldom within, but the glass 
is rich in tone as is also the ancient carved oak. 
The most interesting portion of the whole was, 
to us, the hall, entered from the inner court — 
a beautiful modern room of ancient design. In 
the center of some of its leaded windows are 
insets designed by that superb colorist, Burne- 
Jones. The abnormality of poets is pardon- 
able, but oft amusing ; and we laughed at some 
of the idiosyncrasies of the bard of Stoke 
Poges. 

In the church of St. Marj^ the Less are some 
memorial tablets to members of the family of 
America's first President, who was first in three 
other respects. 

" Before I see any more colleges," said 
Diana; " I want to find the little church that 
has a pre-Norman tower." Distances are short 
in Cambridge, and we found it behind " Cor- 
pus." The street on which St. Benet's humbly 
retires is so narrow we could not obtain a pho- 
tograph of the low, square tower whose sim- 
ple ruggedness might well have outlived a 
thousand years or more. We peeped through 
the tall iron fence and admired the entrance 
to a passage into the street beyond. Sonia 
wanted to see the interior of the church; but 
timidity would have prevented had not Diana 
gently tried the door of the church and found 



Cambridge 121 

it unlocked. We entered and saw a kindly 
faced clergyman in his black cassock, talking 
to an old woman. Seeing hesitation and in- 
quiry in our mien he nodded to us kindly. 
Diana said we were interested in the church — 
and — might we be permitted to see the inte- 
rior? Whereupon his demeanor inferred that 
interest had been manifested in the theme 
which he most dearly loved. He consulted his 
watch. 

" In ten minutes there will be a short serv- 
ice. If you would like to return at twelve I 
shall be most happy to show you the church." 

We came on the King's Parade, opposite the 
handsome, vine-draped stone screen that shields 
the outer court of King's College from the 
street. Ever since that day the mention of 
King's brings to mind its beautiful chapel, a 
marvel of the most marvelous period of Gothic 
architecture, and rightly called the " Glory of 
Cambridge." Our eyes followed every lovely 
line of roof, window, and stall when we had re- 
luctantly withdrawn them from the chapel's 
exterior and passed through the delicately 
carved doorway into the lofty nave. We knew 
how grotesque had sometimes been the whims 
of medieval stone carvers; but never had we 
seen so daintily unconventional a divertisse- 
ment as we discovered in the heart of one of the 



122 Ways and Days Out of London 

Tudor roses that share with the portcuUis in 
the decorative scheme. Instead of the conven- 
tionahzed rose center that is repeated in all the 
others, this rose contains a woman's face, deli- 
cately carved. Some say it represents the art- 
ist's idea of the Virgin; but the artistic idea 
of the Virgin is usually very human, and we 
liked to think that with a song on his lips 
and a chisel in his hand, the carver's eyes 
saw only the face of his beloved while he was 
working. 

We rested, steeping our souls in the sensuous 
beauty of line and of light from the old glass 
which colored the atmosphere as though it had 
been filtered through jewels. 

Back to St. Benet's we strolled and found 
the vicar, divested of his robes, awaiting us. 
The church probably dates, he told us, from the 
beginning of the seventh century. Perhaps 
some of St. Augustine's followers erected it 
about the time their master was engaged on 
that at Cratendune — the predecessor of Ely 
Cathedral. The vicar showed us a piscina with 
quatrefoliated squint which he had exhumed 
from the mass of plaster that had been smeared 
over the walls by modern " restorers." He 
tapped the east wall, which rang hollow near 
the altar; and doubtless there his chisel would 
discover something interesting. A chapter 



Cambridge 123 

would be all too little for the interesting details 
he told us of his little church that had been 
standing hundreds of years ere the university 
germinated. And even this is shrouded in 
mystery. Bede tells of Sigebert, King of East 
Anglia, who, having seen in France a " school 
for learning," instituted something of the sort 
in England. The rival universities each claim 
to be the older. 

"We must admit, I think," said the vicar; 
" that an ox-ford may be older than a Cam- 
bridge. By the bye, you Americans know 
history rather well; probably you recall that 
the Cam was anciently called the Grenta or 
Granta and that Domesday Book refers to the 
university as * Grentebridge.' " 

" The river must be as small as its present 
name," said Sonia; " we have not yet discov- 
ered it." 

" You have not seen the Backs? Do let me 
show them to you ! " 

*' We have seen a good many fronts and 
insides," said Diana ; " are the backs any 
nicer? 

"Wait!" commanded the vicar, who led 
the way through St. Catherine's College and 
Queen's, where he paused long enough to let 
us admire the large sun dial on the chapel wall, 
the Erasmus Court, and the Tower in whicH 



124 Ways and Days Out of London 

that gentle maker of history awaited a royal 
summons that never came. However worthy 
the mysterious Backs might be, we must needs 
loiter through the Cloister Court, so quaint 
and picturesque a link with long ago. 

Through a narrow passage we came sud- 
denly upon a simple wooden bridge over a tiny 
river, beyond which spread the glory of Eng- 
land's mighty trees and emerald turf. The 
bridge on which we stood was, the vicar said, 
an exact replica of an ancient one — known as 
the Mathematical Bridge — which had been so 
perfectly constructed that wooden pins held it 
securely together. We stepped upon the path 
on the river's farther brink. Our vicar's face 
beamed at our delight. 

" After all," he said; " what can be compared 
to nature? What would our quads be with- 
out their window boxes, their flower borders, 
and the inevitable ivy you Americans like so 
much? And tell me, do you not like all of 
Cambridge better now that you are beginning 
to be acquainted with the Backs? " We had 
been strolling along the shady path. The 
Backs of King's Chapel and of Clare College 
were mirrored in the river. Clare's Bridge 
was set in a glory of green. 

The vicar returned with us as far as the 
King's Parade, and in resj^onse to a request 







so 



■n 



126 Ways and Days Out of London 

pers of the paper-sole sort. We admired their 
utter serenity of countenance, which gave no 
hint of torture. 

" Perhaps you may have observed," said 
Diana, " that they are not trying to see the 
whole of Cambridge in a single day; and that 
very few of them venture on this awful rubble." 

Trinity's Great Court is inclosed by the bat- 
tlemented buildings of this largest college in 
the university. The " wrong side " of the 
King's Gateway was quite as interesting as 
the other. We sought entrance to the chapel, 
but were a few minutes too early for the after- 
noon opening, so after a good look at the big 
fountain, which was innocent of water, and 
at King Edward's Tower beyond which was a 
garden, and promising ourselves to return 
later to the chapel, we passed through an oaken 
passage on one side of which was the " but- 
tery." On the other we caught a glimpse into 
the great oak-paneled dining hall. We longed 
to see the library with its precious collection of 
manuscripts, but dared not seek permission. 
From the beautiful Cloister Court we passed 
into yet another, from which a gateway 
brought us suddenly out on a bridge over the 
Cam. After such an infinity of buildings this 
was so refreshing that we uttered the only ex- 
clamation that is flexible enough to express 




King's Gateway is more eloquent of King Hal than of Edward IV. 



Cambridge 127 

what we felt: " Oh! " The river was gay with 
girls. The vicar had told us that the annual 
intercollegiate rowing races would occur at 
five this afternoon. This accounted for the 
gala atmosphere. To be sure, we wanted to 
go. Could we afford to miss anything in this 
land of delightful surprises? The course was 
some distance from the town, and there would 
doubtless be brakes in plenty to carry the race- 
goers. We sank upon a bench where we could 
watch the tennis playing. Diana opened a 
guide book and listlessly turned its pages. 

" Do you care," she inquired of Sonia, who 
had furtively slipped her foot from its dainty 
" pump," and was scanning the distance fear- 
ful of detection; " do you care whether Cam- 
bridge was burned by the Danes or whether 
William erected a castle here while the Saxon 
nobles held the isle of Ely against his advance? 
Does your present or future happiness depend 
upon the knowledge that Cromwell took pos- 
session of the Borough of Cambridge for Par- 
liament and garrisoned it with a thousand 



men? 



?" 



It seems to me," replied Sonia, hastily re- 
placing her shoe at the fancied approach of 
something human; " that those things occurred 
everywhere in England. I suppose King John 
granted all sorts of promises, Indian fashion, 



128 Ways and Days Out of London 

that Richard II or III — not our splendid 
Richard — deprived everybody of everything 
they justly possessed, and that Elizabeth gra- 
ciously volunteered to pay somebody a roj'^al 
visit. Would it not be dreadful if we should 
become indifferent to such things ! My brain is 
clogged; we have had such a feast to-day. I 
can't digest anj'ihing more." 

** Here is something we should have seen," 
said Diana, with reviving interest; "in the 
market place, which this book says is one of the 
finest in England — opposite the guildhall 
stands the conduit erected chiefly by a bequest 
of Thomas Hobson, the ' immortal carrier,' be- 
cause of his ' choice ' in the matter of livery- 
stable accommodation. 

" Just fancy Geoffrey Chaucer having been 
a student here! " she continued. " And list to 
these names! Cranmer, Coleridge, Milton, 
Ben Jonson, Pepys, Spenser, Ridley, Pitt, 
Jeremy Taylor, William Harvey, Elizabeth's 
Essex, Newton, Bacon, Dryden, Byron, and 
last — aye, and least — Oliver Cromwell. To 
Magdalene — must we say Maudlin? — Pepys 
bequeathed a valuable and curious library." 

"Yes, Maudlin it must be; and did you 
notice that our nice vicar pronounced Caius, 
'Keys'?" 

Trinity's magnificent avenue of limes gave 



Cambridge 129 

us one more thrill before we concluded to forego 
the races; and having crossed St. John's 
Bridge of Sighs and traversed St. John's four 
rubble-paved courts, we hailed a yellow han- 
som which stood outside the Tudor Gateway 
and were driven rapidly to the station sans 
china and sans basket. 

That evening Miss Hebert came to our 
lodgings with an invitation from Mrs. Trotter, 
whose husband is one of the dignitaries of Pe- 
terhouse, for the American ladies to come down 
to Cambridge for the Senior Wrangler and 
Wooden Spoon exercises a few days later. 

" I say, it is a pity you went to Cambridge 
before you had this invitation. ^Irs. Trotter 
would have given you a jolly luncheon in the 
doctor's rooms, and they would have shown you 
everything." 

"Not in one day!" Diana exclaimed with 
emphasis; "but perhaps they will show us a 
few of the things we did not see : Milton's and 
Spenser's mulberry trees, for instance; some 
interiors and a few more colleges. We have 
seen only nine to-day." 

" It will be a pleasure," said the undaunted 
Sonia, " to meet Mrs. Trotter, if only to thank 
her for her generosity to people she has never 
seen." 

Arrayed in fine feather, therefore, we set 



130 Ways and Days Out of London 

forth on the first Tuesday in July for Cam- 
bridge. jNlrs. Trotter met us at the station 
and we were driven in her carriage to the Sen- 
ate House, where a multitude of robed and 
hooded men and a bevy of eager young women 
were assembling. We remembered the day 
Soma's brother was graduated from Harvard ; 
and the brisk, if boisterous American way 
made the sober British method of graduation 
seem somewhat ponderous. The Senate House 
is not unlike a Presbyterian church. Part of 
the gallery was reserved for guests, but most 
of it was filled with undergraduates, whose 
enthusiasm was, we concluded, either tepid or 
controlled. There were a few rows of seats 
along the side walls, and we had no difficulty 
in obtaining places. The rear end of the hall 
was apportioned to the various colleges, whose 
positions were indicated by large cards bearing 
the somewhat startling names: Jesus, Trinity, 
Christ, etc.; and under these were gathered 
black - robed, fur - hooded, mortar - boarded 
seniors. 

Two men entered bearing silver maces; an- 
other solemnly bore a book that looked like a 
family Bible — its covers chained together. 

" The statutes," whispered ]Mrs. Trotter. 
Then came an old man in scarlet robes which 
were faced with crushed strawberry. He ap- 



Cambridge 131 

propriated an imposing chair — center front of 
the low platform. He was the Vice Chancel- 
lor. The two mortar-boarded mace bearers 
stood on the Vice Chancellor's either side and 
concentrated their solemn gaze upon the rear 
of the hall. The silence was sacramental. 
There were several Senior Wranglers; which 
discovery confused us considerably, because we 
had, in discussing the probable meaning of the 
term, concluded that a Wrangle might be Eng- 
lish for debate, and that the Senior Wrangler, 
having been victorious in debate, was valedic- 
torian. Evidently there were to be no speeches, 
no valedictory, no singing of glees. The sen- 
iorest Wrangler knelt before the Vice Chan- 
cellor, his palms together, raised in saintly 
supplication. The hands were overlaid by 
those of the scarlet-and-crushed-strawberry 
one M ho murmured something inaudible. One 
or two boys in the gallery feebly cheered, 
and the blushing candidate escaped by a side 
door. 

" If only Billy and his class were here to 
give them a good Harvard yell!" whispered 
Sonia. 

"Rah! Rah! Uahl— that one," replied 
Diana, pointing to the sacred name of one col- 
lege, " would not be conducive to the sort of 
cheering Billy led." 



132 Ways and Days Out of London 

The exercises continued for several hours, 
the graduates being conducted to the red one 
in groups of four, each member of which 
grasped a professorial finger hke a frightened 
child reluctantly going to the dentist. After- 
wards Mrs. Trotter went with us to see the 
Round Church — St. Sepulchre — one of the 
four round churches extant in England that 
the Normans had built in imitation of the Holy 
Sepulchre at Jerusalem. This one is singu- 
larly like another we had seen — the beautiful 
Temple Church in London. 

Then we went to Jesus College, whose most 
interesting feature to us was the chapel. The 
one-time Benedictine nunnery of St. Rhade- 
gund forms a part of it and the Nuns' Gallery 
remains almost unchanged. Here carved on 
an oaken stall are the armorial cocks of Bishop 
Alcock, whose beautiful little chapel is one of 
Ely's most delectable features. He was 
founder of this college. In a cloistered court 
have recently been revealed early architectural 
beauties which had been plastered out of sight 
by some zealous restorer. 

She also showed us Caius, with its Gates of 
Honor, of Humility, and of Virtue, which de- 
lighted us even more than its flower-decked 
courts. The other colleges she named to us as 
we passed; but now we must hurry lest we be 










o 












o 






Cambridge 183 

late for the Wooden Spoon ceremony. Dr. 
Trotter awaited us in his rooms at Peterhouse, 
his genial cordiality quite overcoming our awe 
of his lofty position. The luncheon was 
worthy of LucuUus; but we might not linger 
to enjoy it as it deserved. The doctor, clad in 
a scarlet coat with pink facings, placed on his 
auburn head a velvet hat much like those of the 
" buffetiers " in the Tower of London. Sonia 
strode proudly beside him while Diana followed 
with Mrs. Trotter and mentally decided that if 
there were harmony in the color scheme of col- 
legiate garments it was of the sort that musi- 
cians call " close." 

We both endeavored to learn the meaning of 
Senior Wrangler. Our companions labored 
kindly, patiently, and politely ; but our impres- 
sions are still somewhat hazy. Triposes are 
lists of honor students in order of distinction. 
In the mathematical tripos the first man is 
Senior Wrangler. Wherefore wrangler? As 
Billy would say: " Search me! " 

" The morning exercises are rather dull," 
said Mrs. Trotter, who had doubtless detected 
condemnation in our faint praise; "but the 
Wooden Spoon is right jolly, you know." 

Let the eloquence of a London newspaper 
article on the following morning describe the 
afternoon's ceremony: 



134 Ways and Days Out of London 

CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY. 

Conferment of Degrees. 

Over six hundred degrees were conferred yesterday 
at the last congregation of the Cambridge academical 
year. Among the recipients was Mr. I , of Pem- 
broke, one of the Senior Wranglers, who, by right 
of his position in the mathematical tripos, took pre- 
cedence of all his confreres. At the tail of the long 

list was Mr. R. P , of Fitzwilliam Hall, the 

*' wooden spoonist." Emblazoned with university 
and college arms, and decorated with the colors of 
the hall, the spoon was suspended between the gal- 
leries upon stout cords, and the quaint mode of pres- 
entation occasioned much mirth. After Mr. P 

had been admitted to his degree, the spoon was low- 
ered, but just as he was about to clutch it, it was 
jerked out of his reach. This manoeuvre was re- 
peated time after time, varied by other antics prac- 
tised by undergraduates on degree day. At last Mr. 

P. grew tired of the sport, and strode away 

toward the exit. " Come back, sir, come back, " his 
tormentors roared. With some hesitation, the 
wooden spoonist retraced his steps, and was merci- 
fully allowed to capture his legitimate spoil. Bear- 
ing the spoon on his shoulder, he made his way out 
of the Senate House, to the accompaniment of loud 
cheering. 

Our splendid doctor was on the platform; 
but his presence could not deter the combined 



Cambridge 135 

influences of champagne at luncheon, a tem- 
perature in the hall of eighty-odd degrees that 
were not academic, together with the " sport- 
ive manoeuvres," from producing in us a Hen- 
ley-like sleepiness, more difficult to combat be- 
cause of the greater need. There came an end. 

Dr. Trotter was anxious for us to see some 
of the college interiors. Mr. Ruskin, he told 
us, considered the Second Court of St. John's 
— through which we were passing and had ex- 
claimed at the mauve tone age had given to 
the brick buildings — the most perfect archi- 
tecturally of all the many beautiful ones in the 
university. The great dining hall at St. John's 
is one of the finest we had seen since the Mid- 
dle Temple. Here were Hepplewhite chairs 
enough to make a fortune for a Piccadilly 
dealer in antiques. Dr. Trotter pointed out 
the portraits of Wordsworth and other promi- 
nent St. Johnsmen. The long and narrow 
combination room has a low Tudor ceiling. 
Here were more interesting portraits; but our 
attention was chiefly given to the furniture. 
Diana discovered several Edelinck and Clouet 
engravings on the walls. The library is one of 
the many treasure troves which are so aston- 
ishingly plentiful in England. 

Train time was rapidly approaching, so we 
could see no more of the beauties of Cambridge. 



136 Ways and Days Out of London 

As we were about to enter a china shop on St. 
John's Street, Sonia exclaimed in some excite- 
ment: 

"Here comes our vicar!" Not knowing 
that we possessed a vicar, the Trotters turned 
and beheld the vicar of St. Benet's, who 
paused, greeted us kindly, and a formal ex- 
change was made of that necessary currency 
— names. 

Promising to visit us soon in London the 
Trotters waved good-by as we leaned from the 
window in our compartment of the train for 
London. 




CHAPTER IX 

Stoke PogeSj Burnham BeecheSj Eton and 

Windsor 

THE poet Gray : this is Stoke Poges. Be- 
fore its Gray day there was at Stoke 
Poges a pretty village church around which 
spread a shady graveyard. The church and 
graveyard remain, and doubtless there are pret- 
tier ones in England; but from the moment 
the traveler steps out of his landaulet before 
the tiny ivy-smothered lodge, where he refuses 
to buy photographs of what he has not seen, 
but burns to see, his thoughts are of the poet 
Gray. Upon this single string, moreover, do 
sexton and pew opener harp. 

From Gray the lych-gate, which he never 
saw, had excluded us. Immediately we had 
passed through it we were permeated with that 
peace in which the poet's spirit was steeped on 
the psychological evening which procreated the 

137 



138 Ways and Days Out of London 

poem best known to English-speaking people. 
Though we stood in the hot summer sun and 
looked down the flower-bordered walk between 
the graves leading to the little church — though 
curfew, lowing herd, and darkness were lack- 
ing, Sonia said : 

" I wonder why the world had to wait for 
the son of a London money scrivener to ex- 
press the sensations that are shared by us all? 
Hundreds, thousands have felt the same poetic 
efflatus as they stood here; and how few pos- 
sess the ability to crystallize it in language I " 

A grave-digger's spade gave to the lyric 
silence a dramatic intensity. Some instinct 
led us to the poet's simple tomb, which bears 
not his name, though a tablet on the church 
wall facing it states that he lies " in the same 
tomb upon which he has so feelingly inscribed 
his grief at the loss of a beloved parent." 

A good woman must have been " Dorothy 
Gray, widow, the careful, tender mother of 
many children, one of whom alone had the mis- 
fortune to survive her." 

St. Giles is the patron saint of this parish, 
though his name is seldom mentioned in con- 
nection with it. Although the history of Stoke 
Poges began in Saxon times, a church was 
probably not built until after the Conquest. 

" Domesday Book " records the demesne of 




~3 






0^ 

I 



3 






5* 



Stoke Poges 139 

William Stoches, which is assessed at ten hydes 
— about eight hundred acres — and is worth in 
all five pounds. 

"Fancy," said Sonia; "what the present 
* worth ' of beautiful Stoke Park must be! " 

"Incidentally," mused Diana; "what will 
it be a thousand years from now? " 

" The Earl of Huntingdon — that sounds 
like Robin Hood. I hope the Huntingdons 
who owned Stoke Park were Robin's own 
folk," she continued, as certain historical facts 
became known to us. 

When royalty pays a visit, woe to him who 
would economize! Elizabeth was a sovereign 
whose restless spirit drove her forth on many 
a sojourn among her landowners; and Stoke 
Park's hospitality was lavished upon its sump- 
tuous queen when the mighty chief justice, Sir 
Edward Coke, threw open its portals for her 
entertainment. Later, however, she had no 
compunction about seizing the estate for a 
debt, real or fancied. 

Although the simple Quaker, William Penn, 
set forth in quest of a land that would not per- 
secute the Society of Friends, and became by 
royal grant owner and governor of Pennsyl- 
vania, he did not become an American. His 
son Thomas bought this fair demesne of Stoke 
Park, in England, which was occupied by his 



140 Ways and Days Out of London 

descendants for three generations. The Eliza- 
bethan manor of the Huntingdons was almost 
demoHshed in 1790; and John Penn caused the 
present Italian-style mansion to be erected. 
All we saw of it was a photograph, whose 
charm was enhanced by clustering roses and a 
large deodar, and the pretty entrance gate on 
the road from Slough. 

In the north wall of the chancel in St. Giles's 
Church are two early English windows and a 
small Norman one. These, together with a fif- 
teenth-century doorway, some early "restorer" 
had choked with plaster and stone, which have 
happily been removed. To Sir John de INIo- 
lyns — marshal of the king's falcons, supervisor 
of the queen's castles, and afterwards a peer 
of the realm — is due all honor for having erected 
early in the fourteenth century the present 
church. We had entered by the little porch, 
whose two sturdy oaken timbers have with- 
stood five hundred years of change and chance. 
A charming feature of the church is the pri- 
vate entrance for worshipers from the Great 
House. This so-called cloister leads from a 
low vestibule windowed with fragments of 
venerable glass that were brought from the 
Manor House at the time of its reconstruction. 

Far up in Derbyshire we saw, later in the 
summer, Dorothy Vernon's beautiful home 










5>. 






e 
^ 

O 



o 



Stoke Poges 141 

and her tomb with its ugly wooden figures in 
stiff devotional attitude. And here at Stoke 
Poges behold painted upon the glass the arms 
of her son Roger, of John Fortescue, also, 
whose brother married Dorothy's daughter! 
What did they here ? There was none to tell us. 

The quaint " bicycle window " interleaded 
among these bits of old glass was pointed out 
to us with much pride of possession. 

There are some interesting tombs and brasses 
in the church. From the Norman-French in- 
scription on the slab of William de Wittemerse 
we gathered that he desired our prayers for his 
pardon. We liked the old custom of calling a 
woman Dame. " Dame Margaret " has a 
pleasing sound. 

"What a beautiful name — Alianore!" ex- 
claimed Diana. " Why has no poet sung of 
her? Lenore and Eleanore are as nothing to 
the music of this name." 

Here the Penn is almost as mighty as the 
poet; but what is a colonist as compared to 
him who has struck a deep chord of sympathy 
in the human heart? 

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade. 
Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap. 

Each in his narrow cell forever laid, 

The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 



142 Ways and Days Out of London 

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, 
Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray ; 

Along the cool sequester'd vale of life 

They kept the noiseless tenour of their way. 

Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd Muse, 

The place of fame and elegy supply ; 
And many a holy text around she strews. 

That teach the rustic moralist to die. 

We scarcely glanced at the big monument to 
the poet in Stoke Park just outside the church- 
yard, to which our awakened driver directed 
attention. What avails a stone monument to 
him whose memory can never fade? 

Past Stoke Common and a raw new village 
or so we proceeded. The Lord Mayor's Drive 
brought us to those hoary Burnham Beeches, 
gnarled and knotted as any rheumatic gaffer, 
the oldest beeches in old England, and, hap- 
pily, in the possession of the Corporation of 
London, free to all who would enjoy them. 

We had always supposed that forest trees 
grew tall and slender like our native pines and 
hemlocks ; but the sturdy lower branches of the 
beeches were within a few feet of the ground. 
We learned afterwards that they had been 
pollarded. The tremendous girth of the trunks 
becomes more and more impressive as the 
driveway advances through this surprisingly 




1, 









2r 



Stoke Poges 143 

extensive remnant of such a forest as Prosper 
le Gai traversed with his Isoult. Sherwood 
Forest is a disappointment. Its few old trees 
are tottering on the verge of extinction, and 
imagination falters before the decrepit surviv- 
ors of the mighty oaks that sheltered the merry 
men of gay Robin's band. The Burnham 
Beeches, on the contrary, look as though they 
might endure for another thousand years. 
One, called the Druid, is known to be more than 
two thousand years old. 

" Oh, for a dryad to tell us of the scenes these 
trees have beheld!" sighed Sonia. Eerie in- 
deed are the gnarled, mossy roots writhing like 
great green serj^ents among the clustering 
fronds of bracken. A young forest fills the 
spaces between the giants and the shy eyes of 
deer alone are needed to complete the sylvan 
spell. Little opportunity was afforded us for 
sentiment. We were, all too soon, to pass 
through loud-voiced throngs of trippers who 
rode donkeys and patronized garish refresh- 
ment booths or cheap photographers. Our 
driver was bidden to haste lest we lose the fine 
flavor of the forest in this acrid aftermath. 
We had, however, in our flight a glimpse of 
some magnificent oaks at the edge of the green- 
wood. 

In Eton " croky " and cricket were in full 



144 Ways and Days Out of London 

summer sway. Here and there among the 
beflanneled cricketers strolled Kate Greena- 
ways boys in the absurd raiment which a 
conservative custom requires. We had not 
planned to see the college buildings to-day, 
save what could be glimpsed en passant. Our 
driver insisted that we see the chapel, so, sup- 
posing him desirous of sampling the beer in a 
neighboring tavern, we consented — and were 
rewarded. The chapel is almost as fine as 
King's in Cambridge. JNIillais's Sir Galahad 
greeted us like an unexpected friend whom 
we had learned to know and love in his photo- 
graphs. Some work of our beloved Burne- 
Jones adorns the reredos. The old choir 
stalls and richly glazed windows we needs 
must linger to admire; also the rows of brass 
tablets on the walls of the antechapel, bearing 
— in colors — the arms of many notable families 
that have been represented at Eton. 

The inner quadrangle of the college is sug- 
gestive in color and style of Hampton Court 
and of St. John's at Cambridge. 

And now at last were we at Windsor, of 
which but a hint had been accorded us on our 
first Thames day. We had expected much. 
Who dares to affirm that anticipation exceeds 
realization ? We have usually found the oppo- 
site to hold true. Certainly no disappoint- 



Stoke Poges 145 

ment awaited in this monster palace of a hun- 
dred kings. 

An afternoon's impression of Windsor Cas- 
tle is like a conducted continental tour — 
merely a foretaste of later and more leisurely 
delights. Yet it may be fairly comprehen- 
sive. 

We had read that the site of town and cas- 
tle had been granted by Edward the Con- 
fessor to the Abbey of St. Peter, Westmin- 
ster, which he had established; that William 
the Grabber, of Normandy, had appropriated 
it and constructed a fortress, devoting the 
adjacent park to hunting. In Windsor Park 
are still some ancient oaks, one of which — the 
King's Oak — is said to have been a favorite 
resting place of the Conqueror. To William's 
fort Henry I added a chapel, in which he was 
married to Adelais of Lorraine. 

King John, when forced toward Runny- 
mede by the determined barons, took refuge 
here on his way. Here Edward III, Diana's 
favorite king, was born; and here the clever 
William of Wykeham's architectural skill was 
lavished, his weekly stipend amounting to 
seven shillings and that of his clerk three. To 
the fourth Edward the Chapel of St. George, 
patron of the Knights of the Garter, is chiefly 
due. And so proceed the records royal. The 



146 Ways and Days Out of London 

doomed first Charles many times held court in 
Windsor Castle, which later was his prison. 
Subsequent sovereigns perpetuated their in- 
dividual bad taste in divers alterations and 
additions. Others, to their credit, interested 
themselves in enlarging the park and planting 
avenues of now splendid trees. 

When we alighted at the castle the royal 
standard was not flying, by which we knew 
that the king was not in residence. Through 
Henry VIII's gateway, as ponderous and 
pompous as himself, we entered the lower 
ward. Grim gray walls surrounded us and 
stretched on indefinitely, so it seemed. 

The Horseshoe Cloisters of Edward IV 
have been so well restored by Sir Gilbert Scott 
that the whole charm of their oaken antiquity 
is retained. But to Sir Jeffry Wyatt is due 
this imposing Windsor of to-day. 

We walked about in that oversweet confec- 
tion, St. George's Chapel, whose pendant 
bright-hued banners do a tale of knighthood 
unfold. Antwerp's artist-blacksmith, Quen- 
tin Matsys, is believed to have made the monu- 
mental gates for the tomb of Edward IV, 
whose coat of mail and pearl-embroidered 
surcoat of crimson velvet were hung upon 
them after his interment, but no longer exist. 
We saw here one of the few chained Bibles 



Stoke Poges 147 

which England contains. The gravestone of 
Charles Brandon reminded us of his pretty 
romance with the royal Mary, sister of Henry 
VIII. His armor we had seen in the Tower 
of London. Here we saw a statue to Leo- 
pold I of Belgium, who almost was Prince 
Consort of England, and whose parsimony is 
still talked of in Esher. The knights' choir 
stalls, bearing knightly helmets of carved oak, 
are hors de concours. Beneath the pavement 
of the choir lies all that's mortal of merry King 
Hal, whose fame shall not perish until the last 
man dies. Jane Seymour, last of the famous 
sextette, lies beside him. 

Cffisar's Tower — now called Curfew Tower 
— is said to be entered from the cloisters; but 
we met a locked door, and were compelled to 
imagine the lofty* belfry — where Henry VIII 
watched the execution of a butcher who was 
disloyal — and the tower's crypt-like under 
chamber, a grewsome dungeon in which many 
cries of human misery have perished unheard. 
From this tower a subterranean passage once 
led to Burnham Abbey, nearly three miles 
away. 

" I suppose we came on the wrong day," 
complained Diana. " There seems to be no 
day when all of any place can be seen. Such 
and such parts are open on such and such 



148 Ways and Days Out of London 

days; the rest are open only Sundays or some 
other than that on which we come." 

" Why lament the loss of the tower when 
we thereby gain more time for exploring 
other parts of the castle? " pliilosophized 
Sonia. 

When we came to the Hundred Steps we 
were tempted to go do\^Ti to the postern gate, 
which we had seen on the day we came 
do\\Ti the river; but conservation of energy 
and economy of time seemed the wiser deci- 
sion. So we loitered a while on the north ter- 
race, to which we had fled after a peep into 
the Albert Chapel. Would that Wolsey's 
Chapel had been spared by the mob that de- 
faced it! Having seen the Albert Memorial 
in Kensington Gardens, we could not expect 
to fuid the epitome of good taste in any me- 
morial to that estimable consort; but after a 
glance in the Albert Chapel and a pause to 
question the veracity of our vision we turned 
quickly away — one groaning ; the other laugh- 
ing. 

" I suppose," said Sonia, when we had at 
last reluctantly passed from the superb land- 
scape the north terrace commands of the 
slopes, the tree tops and avenues in the spa- 
cious home park, the lucent line of the 
Thames, and the distant lands beyond Eton, 



Stoke Poges 149 

Harrow-on-the-Hill, and Stoke Park; " I sup- 
pose it is our duty to see the state apartments. 
I hope this is the day they are not open. It 
would be much nicer to wander in the green- 
wood and find Heme's oak where the hunt- 
er's antlered ghost ' doth all the winter time 
at still midnight walk round about.' I like 
the old legend that affirms : ' as long as Wind- 
sore Forest endures, Heme the hunter will 
haunt it.' " 

" The state apartments are open," sighed 
Sonia. " There comes a herd of gawpers out. 
I dislike to enter any residence uninvited, 
and I am not interested in royal upholstery. 
' Dry rubbish shot here,' " she quoted from an 
imaginary sign over the entrance. We tried 
to hurry through the great museum-like halls 
and corridors; but our cicerone, who had 
learned his lesson to some purpose and length, 
would not permit a check to his informatory 
outflow. 

" The family is in Switzerland and the fur- 
niture in Holland " might have been said wdth 
truth, certainly of the furniture. 

" This chire is ownly used upon stite okki- 
sions," bawled the guide, tenderly lifting the 
summer dust cover of a massive armchair with 
intent to impress us wdth its grandeur. There 
were acres of furniture-strewn floors, miles of 



150 Ways and Days Out of London 

frescoes, portraits, and tapestry. We tried a 
center rush through the Rubens Room and 
succeeded; but our Httle guide was much per- 
turbed by our irreverence. He had not seen 
the continental galleries, and therefore could 
not comprehend. Even Guido and the sweet 
Carlo we could not take seriously; but Da 
Forli's splendid portrait of Urbino arrested 
our attention, as did the Rembrandts in the 
picture gallery. Royal art collections are 
like neglected gardens — weedy. Amid a mass 
of doubtful Titians, unworthy Claudes, and 
Holbeins, interest in the greater works of great 
painters flags. The object has evidently been 
to cover wall space rather than to display a 
really choice aggregation of the best canvases 
of the best painters. The Van Dycks, how- 
ever, are beyond reproach. Here we stood 
among royal personages — seen through the 
personality of a great artist — whose intensely 
vivid humanness made our hearts throb in 
sympathy with their woes and for their weak- 
ness. 

The guard chamber was grewsome with 
trophies of sacrifice to insatiable Mars. There 
was a superb silver shield inlaid with gold, the 
work of Cellini, the wonderful, the atrocious. 
Of all the trophies at Windsor Castle from 
England's world-wide wars, the black flag of 



Stoke Poges 151 

the Khalifa that had been sent to Queen 
Victoria by Kitchener after the battle of Om- 
durman thrilled us most with its silent tid- 
ings. 

There was also the great hall of St. George 
with its elaborate Gothic roof studded with 
shields of Knights of the Garter and its price- 
less portraits of Sovereigns of the Order, who 
sat to such men as Gainsborough, Lely, Van 
Dyck, and Kneller. The heavy oak panel- 
ing makes an impressive background for the 
portraits. Here was another " stite chire," 
very much like the coronation chair at West- 
minster Abbey. The great chimney of 
" dove " marble speaks of Yule logs and 
knights holding merry wassail. The recep- 
tion room has at one end a great Gothic win- 
dow that looks out on the fair Surrey wealds. 
We were weary of chairs and chandeliers, of 
gilt and gaud ; but we had yet to see the throne 
room, where the garterizing ceremonials occur 
and the Garter blue is omni-evident. We were 
weary of the names of Grinling Gibbons and 
Thomas Lawrence, dearly though we loved 
their work; for one can have too much cake, 
howsoever great be the appetite. The throne 
in the throne room, our guide said, had 
been formerly the state chair of the King of 
Candy. 



152 Ways and Days Out of London 

"I've heard of copper kings and the King 
of Spades, but the King of Barley Sugar is 
new to me! " whispered Diana. 

The banqueting hall, resplendent in Eng- 
lish oak, crimson plush, and portraits gay and 
grim, was inescapable; and really, as banquet- 
ing halls go, this Waterloo chamber is as 
splendid and as stately as poor comfortless 
royalty could require. Fortunately, visitors 
are not permitted to see the private apartments 
of their majesties, so we tripped happily 
through the grand vestibule and down the 
ditto staircase, emerging finally in the upper 
ward. Now were we free to investigate the 
Round Tower, the strong keep of this strong- 
hold, of all Windsor's towers the most " per- 
spicuous " from the country round about. To 
us it was the most triumphant feature of the 
whole castle. This one-time prison-house for 
superfluous royalties was surrounded on three 
sides by a moat in its early days. Now, how- 
ever, this space is occupied by one of the most 
idyllic gardens conceivable. Of all the dis- 
tinguished prisoners who have been confined 
in this tower — which has been called by some 
the Devil's and by others the Maidens' Tower 
— none excites as much interest as that fair boy, 
James Stewart, of Scotland. The lad's fa- 
ther was King of Scotland, but had become 




To ufi the Round Tower iva,s the uuhst triumphant feature 

of the ivhole castle. 



Stohe Poges 153 

hopelessly insane. The oldest son, who was 
the natural heir to the throne, was as dissolute 
as a prince can be. The two princes had a 
cousin — the Earl of Fife — and the Duke of 
Albany was their uncle. These relatives were 
human wolves, seeking what they might de- 
vour. Albany succeeded in obtaining the re- 
gency, and straightway he caused Rothsay, 
the crown prince, to be imprisoned, and his 
jailers were commanded to slowly starve him 
to death. When this was accomplished even the 
king's weakened mind resented it so much as 
to threaten Albany's position ; but to conciliate 
the sovereign the duke made a great show of 
punishing — by death — a handful of his own 
enemies who were formally accused of murder- 
ing the young prince. Now, only James, an 
eight-year-old boy, stood between Albany and 
the throne he coveted. He was sent to a 
bishop, who packed him off to France with two 
letters, one addressed to the French king and 
one to the English, lest accident befall the 
little traveler. The accident occurred; on the 
channel the ship which bore him was seized by 
an English cruiser, and the little prince was 
borne to King Henry IV, who, not being on 
the friendliest terms with Scotland, retained 
him as a hostage. He was sent to Notting- 
ham to be educated, and after the accession 



154 Ways and Days Out of London 

of Henry V, James, then seventeen years of 
age, was brought to Windsor. At this time 
he really had been made King of Scotland by 
acclamation — his father having died — but Al- 
bany did not want him to be released, nor was 
Henry willing to do so. Perhaps the boy was 
not unwilling to remain in England. He was 
by nature a student and a dreamer, although 
he sometimes accompanied the royal hunting 
parties in Windsor Forest, and could " run a 
spear or push a buckler " as well as any. At 
length, for state reasons — poor Henry's 
*' guest " had become an embarrassment — 
James was confined in more or less comforta- 
ble apartments in the Tower. He philosoph- 
ically accepted matters as they were and lux- 
uriated in writing poems, many of which were 
inspired by the noble views his windows com- 
manded. Where the moat had been was now 
the Maid of Honor's Garden, and there the 
French queen's attendants strolled in the cool 
of the day. 

Now was there made, fast by the tower's wall 
A garden fair ; and in the corneris set 

An arbour green, with wandis long and small 
Railit about, and so with treis set, 
Was all the place, and hawthorn hedges knet 

That lyf was none, walking there forbye, 

That might within scarce any wight espy. 



Stoke Poges 155 

One Tom Payne, who had been a priest, a 
prisoner, and a jail breaker, attempted to res- 
cue James, but was prevented and captured; 
and a stricter guard was placed on the tower. 
The royal prisoner one evening beheld a new 
figure among the maidens who strolled in the 
garden. She was alone. A pearl net inclosed 
the masses of her bright gold hair ; a little dog 
frolicked beside her. She was intent upon a 
book held open before her and quite uncon- 
scious of the interest she aroused in the lonely 
prisoner's heart. Then she seated herself in 
a bower of roses and sang a song he knew well. 
He became bold, and replied by singing it also. 
The maid blushingly retired; but her heart, 
too, was stirred. To Henry's " Sweet Kate," 
Jane, this fair daughter of the Earl of Som- 
erset, plied questions anent the voice that sang 
to her from the tower. Meanwhile the young 
poet was recording his impressions: 

And therewith cast I down mine eyes again 
Where, as I saw, walking under the tower 

Full secretly, now coming to her plain, 
The fairest or the freshest young flower. 
That ever I saw, methought, before that hour, 

For which sudden abate, anon astart 

The blood of all my body to my heart. 

By the kind-hearted queen's intercession 
James was granted some liberty, and his in- 



156 Ways and Days Out of London 

terest in the Lady Jane soon kindled into love. 
When Henry returned to France to do bat- 
tle against the Dauphin, James was requested 
to accompany him, and the lovers were sepa- 
rated for a time. Instead of a triumphal re- 
turn like that after Agincourt or his marriage 
with Katherine, Henry was brought back in 
a cortege, and his sweet Kate was widowed 
after two brief years of happiness. But she 
generously espoused the cause of James and 
Lady Jane and was instrumental in effecting 
his freedom and their marriage. Their love 
lasted until death. When the assassin's pon- 
iard had been struck through his heart she 
was with him until his last breath was drawn 
and his last word — " Jane " — was uttered. 
When Geoffrey Chaucer was valet to Edward 
III he, too, beheld a fair maid, Philippa, one of 
Queen Philippa's damsels, walking in the Maid 
of Honor's Garden, whom he loved and won. 
" The pencil of the skillful graphist," says 
one of our guide books ; " is required to give 
an adequate idea of the imposing east front 
of the castle as seen from the east terrace." 
The pencil of the skillful graphist was all that 
was accorded us of the east terrace, which, we 
learned with much dismay, is open to visitors 
only on Sunday, when the guards' band plays 
from two to four. We wanted to see the gar- 



Stoke Poges 157 

dens and orangery below the terrace, also the 
elephants that had been brought from Luck- 
now; and this disappointment was the keener 
because we had lingered so long on the para- 
pet, looking down on the Maid of Honor's 
Garden and talking of its sweet romance, that 
we were unable to see the interior of the Round 
Tower because we requested admission just 
twenty minutes after the hour of closing — four 
o'clock. 

George IV's gateway is guarded by the 
rival towers of York and Lancaster. The 
Long Walk was thronged with people as we 
looked down upon it, and in consideration of 
its three miles' extent to Snow Hill, whose 
chief attraction is the " Copper Horse," we 
contented ourselves with a brief stroll along 
its sunny pathway between fine old elms and 
ventured to dispute the guide book's asser- 
tion that: " Imagination cannot picture an 
approach of greater magnificence." 

Chance now directed our steps to what we 
most desired to see — the Royal Mews. There 
are some private stables in the Berkshires and 
on Long Island that princes might covet; but 
we found a peculiar charm in the home of the 
sleek bays that had drawn their majesties to 
Royal Ascot, of the ponies beloved of the little 
princes and in the favorite carriages of " our 



158 Ways and Days Out of London 

dear queen," as we had often heard our friends 
call her. The equerry who conducted us 
through the stables and harness room was the 
right man in the right place. He loved his 
horses and was proud to exhibit them and their 
handsome but refinedly simple trappings. We 
chatted with him of Ascot, Olympia, and of 
the Guildford Coach, for we liked to hear him 
talk; but train time was nearing, and we must 
yet buy arms-china and ^photographs. 




ARMS OF 
ST. ALBANS. 



CHAPTER X 

St. Albans 



** X 71 THERE are you going to-morrow? " 
y V asked Miranda-of-the-Balcony, as 
we sat in the twilight among clambering 
vines and glowing flowers, looking over the 
peaceful expanse of Brompton Cemetery — 
among whose luxuriant trees thrushes and 
wrens sounded their evensong — to the glitter 
of the Earl's Court Exhibition beneath a calm 
young moon. 

" We were thinking of St. Albans," re- 
sponded Diana; "do you " 

" St. Albans! Why in the world are you 
going there ? My dears, it is the hottest place ! 
and there's nothing to see. We have tickets 
for the morning performance at Terry's. It 
is an American play. Do come with us I " 

But we went to St. Albans. 

159 



160 Ways and Days Out of London 

Still seemed London eager to place hazards 
in the way of our going; never was she will- 
ing to loosen her thrall. Arrived at St. Pan- 
eras in good time for the train our new A. B.C. 
had scheduled, we found it had been changed 
without notice; and London held our restless 
persons until twenty-three minutes after noon. 
The day being Saturday and the station 
thronged with " bean feasters," we booked 
first-class tickets and luxuriated in blue-cush- 
ioned seclusion past 'appy 'Ampstead, where 
long rows of new houses are aiding the fulfil- 
ment of that old prophecy that Hampstead 
will one day be the center of London. 

Alas! Advertising signs — an atrocious 
Americanism — are permitted to deface this 
lovely country at the north of London. Can 
it be possible that soups, soaps, paint, or pills 
are desirable because they are proclaimed in 
hideous expanse beside the railway? 

Beyond Elstree the line runs for several 
miles parallel to the Watling Street, a fitting 
reminder of Roman Verulamium, most pow- 
erful and populous of Roman stations in the 
south of England, to which the name of a 
Christian proto-martyr was given when Off a. 
King of INIercia, founded the Abbey of St. 
Alban in 795. 

About the year 300 Amphibalus, a Chris- 




We were so fickle as to become instantln enamored of sundry 

ancient timbered houses. 



St. Albans 161 

tian preacher of Caerleon, whose courage was 
inferior to his conviction, was fain to flee 
before the persecution that had become ram- 
pant in Wales by order of Diocletian, rather 
than suffer martyrdom. Arriving at Veru- 
lamcestre, he was given refuge in the home of 
Alban, a wealthy citizen of this town. The 
pious guest converted his host to his belief; 
but scarcely had this been accomplished when 
lo! Amphibalus was wanted by the Roman 
Emperor's emissaries who pressed hotly about 
the place of his hiding. Alban exchanged 
clothing with his guest — thereby proving that 
opera-bouffe disguises are not so transparent 
as we suppose — and Amphibalus escaped. 
Whether the pagan officers "saw through" the 
deception we are not told ; but they were look- 
ing for a man to hang, and they found one. 
Alban, uj^on their demand that he sacrifice to 
the gods of Rome, not only refused, but re- 
proved them for doing so; whereupon he was 
condemned to torture. This he endured with 
so sublime a patience that their ingenuity was 
circumvented; so, their merry sport having 
lost its zest, Alban was condemned to be be- 
headed on Holmhurst Hill. Upon that spot 
the abbey was erected five hundred years later. 
Many were the tales of miracles performed by 
the martyr on the day of his execution. One 



162 Ways and Days Out of London 

affirmed that when the multitude which pre- 
ceded him to the place of execution was de- 
tained by the narrow bridge across the Ver, 
AJban " by his prayer obtained that the river, 
parting asunder, afforded free passage for 
many together." Then followed the repent- 
ance and conversion of the executioner and the 
substitution of a cruel " Doeg," of whom it is 
said that when he had struck off the head of 
the martyr " instantly his own eyes fell out of 
his body." 

" How much more effective that would have 
been if his eyes had fallen out before he struck 
the blow! " said Diana. 

When Alban's official canonization occurred 
we do not know, but his bones rested in peace 
during those five hundred years so eventful 
in England. Offa, though a cruel man and 
the murderer of his kinsman and rival Ethel- 
bert, evidently had a conscience, for we are 
told that his remorse permitted him no rest 
day or night. In a dream he learned the con- 
dition of his pardon. He must discover the 
bones of Alban and raise an abbey dedicated 
to him. With a procession of priests and 
monks chanting litanies he started forth; but 
they deserve no credit for finding the saint's 
scanty remains, for a lightning flash from 
heaven revealed their whereabouts, and any 



St Albans 163 

doubt as to their identity was precluded by a 
band of gold, on which Alban was inscribed, 
circling the head. Scarcely were the precious 
relics removed from the grave when flocks of 
lame men were made to leap, the deaf to hear, 
etc. Off a then journeyed to Rome and ob- 
tained pardon for his crime to Ethelbert. It 
was probably at this time that Alban's canon- 
ization was solemnized. Then " St. Alban's 
Abbey began to be a fact." To the shrine 
came pious pilgrims from all parts of the land 
to be made whole. This " worked " very well 
until the good brothers at Ely, whose coffers 
had not such effectual means of enrichment 
now that St. Etheldreda's fame was waning, 
issued a counterclaim and announced to whom 
it might concern that Ely Cathedral enshrined 
the " true " relics of the saint, and had done so 
all the time. The people were told that they 
had been duped by the monks at St. Alban's. 
Perhaps it had been, after all, the faith of the 
pilgrims that had made them whole. At any 
rate, the efficacy of the shrine at St. Albans 
failed. 

" To be entirely just," says Froude, " in 
our estimate of other ages is not difficult; it 
is impossible." It is not for us therefore to 
estimate the sin of men and women who had 
been sworn to a holy life during the Middle 



164 Ways and Days Out of London 

Ages. No darker records can be shown than 
those of the unnameable atrocities committed 
here; but perhaps the Church herself is most 
to blame for creating conditions so productive 
of temptation. Would tliat we knew more of 
the saintly lives that were lived amid the 
voluptuous infamy of abbey and nunnery! 
At St. Alban's were a few men who devoted 
their lives to the making of beautiful books 
and to the recording of their country's history. 
Roger of Wendover left a most valuable ac- 
coimt of the signing of IMagna Charta; Mat- 
thew Paris wrote frankly of papal extortion 
and of all the chief events in the history of 
his day. 

When we saw the market booths in the 
square at St. Alban's we were glad we had 
declined a matinee at Terry's Theater. Our 
transoceanic hurry is always dispelled by a 
market. To saunter admiringly past the pale 
golden pats of butter, to stroll by waving laces 
and ribbons or loiter among the color and 
aroma of flowers and baskets of fruit, is in- 
evitable to market-going. We had to seize 
firmly upon the certainty that guide books, 
cameras, and parasols bear no light part in a 
fatiguing though delightful day to successful- 
ly combat temptation to buy of the market's 
wares. 



St, Albans 165 

The market place is on the summit of a hill 
at the meeting of several ways. We passed 
therefrom regretfully, but were so fickle as to 
instantly become enamored of sundry ancient 
timbered houses leaning awry among the less 
picturesque but more practicable edifices of 
our own day. After lunching at the Peahen 
we sought and soon found, beyond a little 
alley on the downward slope, St. Alban's Ab- 
bey church, which has been an Anglican Ca- 
thedral since 1877. 

Though the English are conservative, and 
their British predecessors were not a progres- 
sive people, there remains in Great Britain — 
save at Bath and the Isle of Wight — not so 
much as a column to testify to the glory that 
was Roman during the five hundred years 
that these conquerors occupied the island. 
How we of to-day would have venerated a 
tiny temple of Vesta or a triumphal arch over 
the Watling Street erected to Suetonius or to 
Csesar himself, who came as far as Verulam. 
We must perforce be content with walls, with 
bricks, with pots and trinkets that have been 
exhumed. 

When the Normans brought their love of 
beauty and their skilled masons across the 
Channel, they either destroyed in Christian 
zeal the buildings left by the pagans, or else — 



166 Ways and Days Out of London 

consciously or unconsciously — they employed 
pagan materials in the erection of Christian 
temples. It is presumable that Saxons and 
Danes permitted Roman buildings to stand; 
else how came so many Roman bricks in Nor- 
man castles and churches? 

St. Alban's Abbey church is a distinct dis- 
appointment to the seeker after things as they 
were. It is also a disappointment to lovers of 
architectural beauty. Of the abbey itself, 
chief of Hertfordshire's monastic buildings 
during the JNIiddle Ages, only the gateway re- 
mains — a really beautiful remnant of a once 
beautiful whole. 

When Henry VIII was giving away church 
properties, the abbey church of St. Alban was 
granted to Sir Richard Lee. During the 
reign of Edward VI the inhabitants of the 
town purchased it for a parish church. It had 
suffered much during the parliamentary wars 
from the rapacity of troops and from prison- 
ers confined within it. The first impression of 
the church is of a vast, ugly structure, utterly 
incongruous and inharmonious. Its elaborate 
new pink front looks as though it were pinned 
on like an apron to conceal a torn or spotted 
garment. The donor, we are told, of the sev- 
eral hundred thousand pounds which paid for 
this false front, was possessed of a cocksure- 




=0 



I- 



-Si 



^ 
^ 






St Albans 167 

ness of his own architectural skill, and thus 
perpetuated an expression of Lord Grim- 
thorpe's monumental bad taste. Oh, that his 
money had been tainted and the gift refused! 

We walked about the great church seeking 
something beautiful or admirable. Its vast 
length, second longest of any English cathe- 
dral, inspired only amazement at the extent 
to which ugliness may be carried. Its emi- 
nence — somewhat more than three hundred 
feet above sea level and the highest of any 
English cathedral — we appreciated later in 
the day, when we saw it from a distance. In 
our circumambient exploration, however, we 
found an occasional bit of Norman work; and 
near the foundation some Roman bricks were 
interspersed amid the masonry. The Lady 
Chapel looks like a lovely branch grafted upon 
a barren tree. 

Great zeal has been employed in restoring 
the interior, wherein a potpourri of Norman, 
Early English, and Decorated styles plays 
havoc with an already dizzied observer. In 
the Lady Chapel, however, we found more 
harmony. Some beautiful bits of old mold- 
ings, capitals, figures of saints, and other orna- 
mental details of the abbey in its heyday that 
had been incorporated in the wall, gave us as 
much pleasure as anything in the whole great 



168 Ways and Days Out of London 

church. On one of the piers in the nave a 
faded fresco recalled those of Giotto in Flor- 
ence. In the north transept are some fine 
old tiles with the fleur-de-lys of France in the 
center. The old glass is easily descried, for 
its mellow light emphasizes the crude color of. 
the new. One beautiful door remains. 

The shrine of St. Alban is no longer heaped, 
like St. Anne de Beaupre, with trophies of the 
miraculous cures it once effected. The oaken 
Watching Gallery no longer throngs with 
closely hooded nuns looking down upon the 
shrine. 

" Bless me! " exclaimed Diana; " they made 
a saint of the truant Amphibalus after all. I 
have been rather sorry that he was so short- 
sighted as to prefer the tall timber to canon- 
ization as a martyr. I wonder, though, how 
he managed to get into the Calendar? Let's 
go back to the Presbytery and see the frag- 
ments of his shrine." 

The poetical attempts of certain bereaved 
persons are sometimes too interesting to be 
overlooked or forgotten, although the reader's 
point of view may not always coincide with 
that of the writer: 

To THE Memore of Margery Rowlatt 
Wife to John Maynard Esquire. 



St Albans 169 

Here lies intomb'd a woman worthie fame 

Whose vertuos life gives honor to her name 

Few were her years, she died in her prime 

Yet in the worlde fulfilled she much tyme 

Which vertuously she spent providinge still 

The hungry bellies of the poore to fill 

Unto the God of heaven, thrice every day 

Her prayers were heard God knewe her harts deser 

And gave her heaven for her eternal hier 

Where nowe she doth enjoye that endles blis 

Which her redeemer purchased for his." 

Another speaks with surety of the destiny 
of the departed: 

To THE Memorie of Raffe Maynard 

The man that's buried in this tombe 

In heavenly Canaan hath a roome 

A gentleman of antient name 

Who had to wife a vertuous dame 

They lived together in goodlie sorte 

Fortie five years with good reporte 

When seaventie and seaven yeares he had spent 

His soule to his Redeemer went 

His body by will hereunder 13'es 

Still barkening for the great assies 

When Christ the judge of quick and dead 

Shall raise him from this earthly bedd 

And give him heavens eternal blisse 

To live and raigne with saints of his. 

As we passed into the town again and 
looked down a steep road which we beheved 



170 Ways and Days Out of London 

tended toward Berkhampstead and whose 
directness proclaimed it a Roman road, we 
spoke of the occasion when Duke Wilham 
with his army was advancing along the Wat- 
ling Street into his newly acquired domain and 
was stopped by Frederic, abbot of St. Albans, 
who, though a preacher of meekness and peace, 
nevertheless compelled the Conqueror to swear 
in an assembly of clergy and nobles to govern 
according to the laws of his real predecessor 
on England's throne — Edward the Confessor. 
The domains of this abbey extended at that 
time through Essex Forest as far as London 
Stone. If William made fair promises in the 
moment of victory he quickly forgot them, and 
retaliated by seizing half of the abbey's forest 
lands, which he cleared of their timber and 
through which he opened roads. The brave 
Frederic was accused of treason and driven 
into the fens of Ely, where death overtook him. 
But for the intercession of Lanfranc, William 
had put the abbey to the torch. Stripped of 
its wealth it was; and a Norman abbot re- 
placed the monks' idle extravagance with rigid 
discipline. 

When Piers Gaveston in the time of the sec- 
ond Edward — who was really the fifth — pud- 
dled the politics of England, the barons who 
were confederated against him massed their 



St. Albans 171 

troops at Whethampstead, also near St. Al- 
bans. When Isabella, the " She Wolf of 
France," came to St. Albans — in the same 
year that King Edward was deposed and mur- 
dered, and England was at the " mercy " of 
herself and Mortimer — a mob of outraged citi- 
zens clamored about her carriage for justice. 
The queen, who could not understand Enghsh, 
appealed to one of her lords to translate. His 
reply was a lie full of coarse insult to the peo- 
ple. Annoyed by the interruption she com- 
manded her coachman to proceed, and gave 
thenceforth to these downtrodden folk but an 
insolent stare. They, however, were fired to 
action. Robbed long enough by the monks and 
scorned by royalty they attacked the abbey, 
which narrowly escaped being razed. When 
Edward III, a lad of eighteen, succeeded in 
asserting his rights, Mortimer was killed and 
the queen imprisoned. The monks of St. Al- 
ban's Abbey were compelled to grant justice 
to their townsmen; but when the king was 
busy elsewhere, Richard of Wallingford — the 
blacksmith abbot, who invented a remarkable 
astronomical clock — again subjugated the pa- 
tient townsmen to extortion. 

On that same Corpus Christi day, when Wat 
Tyler and his men of Kent entered London, a 
mob, led by William Grindcobbe, came pour- 



172 Ways and Days Out of London 

ing into the town of St. Albans amid welcom- 
ing shouts from farmers and citizens. Strange 
that another Richard of Wallingford should 
have shared Grindcobhe's lead and demanded 
the capitulation of tlie abbey where the previ- 
ous Richard had held dominion! The social- 
ism of Wat Tyler was not yet mature enough 
for continuance; but it was a safety valve for 
the people who had been oppressed by church 
and state in all parts of England and were 
waiting for a leader; and something had been 
gained. INIobs have done much for the Eng- 
lish people, for the time is past when a king 
of that land can say: 

" Clowns ye have been and clowns ye are. 
In your bondage shall ye remain ; not as here- 
tofore, but infinitely worse. So long as I live 
and reign I will make you an example to 
future ages." 

The j^eople, like children, are ever ready to 
believe promises; and when promises had been 
made by the insincere crown or prelate they 
crawled humbly to the oppressors' feet, 
supplicating pardon — they, the oppressed! 
Perhaps the fate of tlie rebellious leaders 
intimidated the men of St. Albans. Grind- 
cobbe and thirteen others were hanged here. 
John Ball, famous as the author of the 
lines 



St. Albans 173 

When Adam dalf and Eve span, 
Who was thanne a gentleman? 

was brought to St. Alban's a month after his 
triumphal entry into London ; and in the pres- 
ence of the timid boy King Richard II, who 
was protected by a thousand men at arms, he 
was hanged, drawn, and quartered. Then the 
king went hunting, not having had enough of 
blood, and the citizens of St. Albans took 
down from the gibbets the bodies of their 
friends and buried them. The royal order re- 
quired the bodies exhumed and again hung 
upon the gallows tree; and right meekly was 
it obeyed! 

The modern town of St. Albans on its hill 
is separated from the ancient one of Verulam 
by the river Ver. Before Csesar's legions in- 
vaded Albion there had been a British settle- 
ment here, in which the Romans established 
themselves after having driven out or mur- 
dered the inhabitants, as was their polite cus- 
tom. 

The peaceable Britons, so oft preyed upon 
by foreign foes, seldom made so notable a 
stand for freedom as when Boadicea — or Voa- 
dicea, as Holinshed calls her — sole leader of 
her oppressed people against the invaders, 
assembled her army here and herself com- 



174 Ways and Days Out of London 

manded the British in a battle that slaugh- 
tered seventy thousand Romans and their 
allies. Verulam was destroyed; but the re- 
maining Romans restored it, and its impor- 
tance as a military station lasted until they 
left England. 

We stood looking at the fields where once a 
lake had been, or where the little Ver had 
flowed in fuller stream in that far-gone day 
when Alban prayed its division for the multi- 
tude. Now beyond the sparkling river be- 
hold! a considerable fragment of Roman wall 
marks unto this day the boundary of Roman 
Verulam. We crossed the Ver and followed a 
path ; doubtless it was the same which the mar- 
t\Ted Alban had trod nearly two thousand 
years ago, followed by the throngs who wished 
to see the show that was furnished by his 
gibbet on Holniliurst Hill. The path fol- 
lowed another part of the Roman wall now 
almost concealed by clustering vines and the 
dense foliage of trees and shrubs. Again we 
loitered, drinking in present beauty while we 
talked of past ugliness, the path terminating 
at last beside a broad highway. 

Light-hearted we took to the open road, 
which, after dipping and curving between the 
borders of Verulam on the one side and fertile 
farms on the other, brought us to the Watling 




' — ^ 



5!5 









5tt 

s 



St. Albans 175 

Street, pointing straight as an arrow toward 
London and toward Dunstable. We followed 
it until we came to St. Michael's Church, one 
of the three that Ulsig, sixth abbot of St. 
Albans, had built on the three principal high- 
ways that led pious pilgrims to the shrine of 
the " first Briton which to heaven led the 
noble army of martyrs." St. Michael's 
Church boasts of possessing the tomb of Fran- 
cis Bacon, who was Baron Verulam and Vis- 
count of St. Albans. Lord Bacon, the Lord 
Chancellor of England, a greater man than 
*' Steenie " — favorite of James I — was found 
guilty of receiving bribes and by king and Par- 
liament was stripped of his official robes. 
Strangely enough the evil that he did lives 
not after him, for he is better known to-day as 
the author of pretty philosophical essays that 
every schoolgirl includes with Ruskin and 
Emerson as " just too lovely," and as the 
posthumous pretender to authorship of the 
plays of Shakespeare than as a heinous crimi- 
nal. He died in 1623 at Gorhambury House, 
his beautiful home near St. Albans. 

While Diana tried the church door Sonia 
read a card that stated the keys to be obtain- 
able at 13 St. Michael's Cottages. 

Said Diana, sinking wearily upon the cool 
grass of the churchyard: " I don't want to see 



176 Ways and Dai/s Out of London 

' sic sedebat ' enough to compel me to hunt 
for St. IMichael's Cottages. We have had a 
dehghtful walk; let us rest here a while and 
perhaps we shall have better luck at St. 
Stephen's. He may keep his keys nearer his 
door." 

" St. Stephen's," observed Sonia, intent 
upon a guide book, " is about as far from the 
town as St. JNIichael's — but in the opposite 
direction." 

The value of St. Stephen's Chin-ch instantly 
" broke," and fell way below par in our esti- 
mation. We sat tlierefore in the shadow of 
a yew reading and talking of Ulsig, the abbot 
who had built tlie three churches and whose 
memory is the pleasanter because he was one 
of the few whose lives were devoted to the good 
of the townsmen of St. Albans. He it was 
who laid out the market place and encouraged 
the people to build, by loaning them not merely 
monev, but materials. 

The monks of St. Alban's Abbey had 
friends in high places. There came a time 
when the abbot was made a peer of the realm; 
and when Nicholas Breakspeare — the only 
Englishman who has worn the papal ring — 
became the head of the church he granted to 
this abbey's executive many special privileges, 
among which was precedence over all other 



St. Alhans 177 

English abbots. If they had all been such men 
as Ulsig, what a glorious history had been that 
of St. Alban's Abbey! 

" It is difficult to believe," Diana observed, 
" that a place so peaceful as St. Albans is 
to-day could have been the scene of so much 
bloodshed and horror. I had forgotten that 
two important battles during the Wars of the 
Roses occurred here." 

While the Duke of York, with whom were 
the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick, was jour- 
neying toward London at the head of three 
thousand men with intent to seize his Grace of 
Somserset, who had been impeached of treason 
by the House of Commons, they found St. 
Albans occupied by the king, who had come 
from London with his army of two thousand 
to impede their progress. After the battle, 
when the victorious York came to beseech 
pardon of his royal prisoner, Henry, hater of 
war, prayed of him : 

" Let there be no more killing then, and I 
will do whatever you will have me." 

Six years later, in 1461, Henry's queen — 
Margaret of Anjou, who should have been a 
man — having vanquished and slain the Duke 
of York, was returning to London, and was 
met near St. Albans by the Yorkists under 
Warwick, accompanied by their prisoner the 



178 Ways and Days Out of London 

king. The Lancastrians won and the king's 
release was obtained. 

" Was not this the battle in which the newly- 
knighted John Grey was slain? " asked Diana. 

" I think so," Sonia responded, " and the 
weeping but lovely - in - her - tears widow 
promptly and picturesquely sought the com- 
passion of the royal Edward, who had recently 
supplanted Henry the Timid. The minx, if 
you remember, got him into a fine predica- 
ment by marrying him despite his honor- 
bright promise to the French princess." 

" Yes, and she managed to install her rela- 
tives in the Blue Book before Warwick suc- 
ceeded in driving the faithless Edward from 
England and herself to Westminster Abbey 
for sanctuary. Who shall sav she lived in vain 
or that her dear John's demise was wholly as 
disastrous as she represented to the suscep- 
tible Edward? Here come some people to see 
the church! Perhaps they will fetch the key." 

The small boy of the party was sent for it; 
and we saw Lord Bacon's monument. 

Our return to the to\Mi was by way of a 
green lane bordering a field of " corn." On 
the tiny bridge across the Ver we paused to 
look at its pretty curv^e. 

ISIuch has been said in these chapters of 
tea; yet tea is so much a part of the day in 



St Albans 179 

England, and the tea hour brought us to so 
many delightful places, that this British bev- 
erage may oft again recur. On this after- 
noon a little street beginning at the bridge 
disclosed a tiny inn — the Fighting Cocks — 
which claims, as do many others, to be the 
oldest inn in England. Certainly this was 
the quaintest in our experience. Beside the 
entrance blooms a triangular bit of garden. 
A larger one overlooks the river. Diana's 
stately head collided with the ceiling as we 
passed through the old tap room, the cockpit, 
and the kitchen, where a bright kettle steamed 
on a real hob. While we awaited tea in the 
riverside garden Sonia played with a cat that 
did not want to be photographed and Diana 
wished for the brush of a Hobbema to paint 
the silvery sky and far-reaching fields. 

Ascending into the town again we inquired 
as to the whereabouts of the Sopwell Nunnery, 
and were relieved to learn that it was not near 
enough for us to seek it in the brief interval 
that remained before train time. There can 
be no sentimentalizing by us over this Nun- 
nery, of which so little that is good is known. 
Even the ruins, as we saw them in a photo- 
graph, seemed utterly uninteresting. They 
might have been the walls of a half -burned 
factory. 



180 Ways and Days Out of London 

The holy well that was so miraculously 
potent while St. Alban's shrine retained its 
efficacy, and that had been summoned into 
existence by the martyr's prayer on the day 
of his execution when he, being athirst, prayed 
for somewhat to slake his suffering, has been 
" filled in," we were told. 

At the station we climbed into a third-class 
carriage on a train that we hurried to catch. 

" Are you sure this is the train for Lon- 
don?" asked Sonia, usually confident in her 
friend's capability. 

" I asked a newsboy, a porter, two male pas- 
sengers, a woman, and a boy," she replied, 
short of breath and with a dash of scorn. So- 
nia, still unconvinced, leaned out and called 
to a guard who had slanmied the door. 

" Is this train for London? " 

" No ! You should be on platform number 
three. Up the stairs and over the bridge. 
Here it comes now! You will have to hurry." 

" It really seems," averred Diana, when the 
" right train " had shrieked and started, and 
we had leaned out for a last look at St. Al- 
ban's Cathedral — somewhat borrowing en- 
chantment from distance — " as though Lon- 
don is determined to be as inhospitable as she 
is captivating." 




CHAPTER XI 

The Henley Regatta and Down the Thames 

to Maidenhead 

AT Paddington we looked about for signs 
±\, of regatta enthusiasm such as would ob- 
tain in Grand Central Station on Yale-Har- 
vard day; but we saw none. Some one has 
said that the Englishman takes his pleasure 
sadly. Certain it is that he takes it leisurely; 
for the inter-university rowing races which oc- 
cur annually on the Thames at Henley are of 
three days' duration. We had chosen the last 
day because of probable finals and greatest 
interest. Signs of the Stream of Pleasure's 
magnetism became plentiful as our train ap- 
proached Henley. Beflanneled men carried 
oars and luncheon baskets; beruffled girls 
bore parasols and boat cushions. Everybody 
smiled happily. At the station all was gayety 
and pleasurable excitement. Almost we ex- 

181 



182 Ways and Days Out of London 

pected that some of the tall young men in the 
bright blazers of their colleges, or perhaps one 
of the clean-shaven clergymen were awaiting 
us. But none among them greeted us, and 
we passed into the street, where vendors of 
Japanese parasols, regatta programmes, and 
post cards w ere not so willing to let us proceed 
unnoticed. 

We had engaged rooms at the White Hart 
at inauguration prices rather than return to 
London on a crowded train. We were also 
forethoughtful of another day on the river. 

A kind-hearted and frugal bobby told us 
the White Hart was " just over there," and 
we walked nearly half a mile in the hot sun, 
past several inns dedicated to various mem- 
bers of the royal anatomy and to highly col- 
ored wild beasts ere we perceived the golden 
letters on the White Hart's modest facade. 
We should have profited by our experience en 
route to Boulter's Lock from the ISIaidenhead 
Station; but who could doubt the accuracy 
of a rosy-cheeked bobby whose blue eyes looked 
so honest? 

We searched vainly for the entrance; but 
there seemed to be none save that to the tap- 
room. Midway through a driveway into a 
large courtyard an entrance was at length re- 
vealed. While Sonia spoke of the beauty of 



The Henley Regatta 183 

the ivy-lined court and deplored the necessity 
of great signs indicative of the prices of meals, 
Diana sought a means of announcing the 
arrival of guests to whom it might concern; 
for the door was open and nothing human was 
visible beyond it. She found a brass-handled 
bell rope beneath an oval plate on which was 
graven Boots. She pulled the bell rope tim- 
orously and raised such a clamor somewhere 
within that she was mischievously tempted to 
test the result of a vigorous pull. This was 
prevented by the appearance of a woman who, 
after examining our credentials, pulled another 
bell and bade a housemaid show us to our 
apartments. 

" Feather beds! " gasped Sonia. " Well, it 
is only for one night ; and do you see that dear 
little casement window? " 

Diana caressed the leaded diamond panes 
and opened the casement, which admitted a 
great waft of fragrance from tall syringas. 
Beyond them we descried a many-angled roof 
that may have been a part of the inn. Its seem- 
ingly purposeless gables and tiny eyelike 
windows winking among age-mellowed tiles 
were more like old Nurnberg than, we sup- 
posed, England. Still farther away a clock 
striking eleven bade us notice the fine church 
tower that held it. 



184 Ways and Days Out of London 

"You are very nice," said Sonia; "but I 
think if some one were to tell me that Julius 
Caesar had been crowned in your church on 
Washington's birthday by the Archbishop of 
Canterbury, I should say: 'No; we are not 
sight-seeing to-day. We are here to behold 
a spectacle.' " 

" Perhaps we had better be off, then," sug- 
gested Diana, shaking out the folds of her 
sunshade. 

Our rooms gave into a long narrow corridor 
whose windows indicated that it bounded the 
courtyard on at least two sides. We spoke 
of the embryo theaters in AVill Shakspeare's 
day and those earlier jNIiracles and ISIysteries 
that were j^laj'ed in just such places. The 
woman in charge of the inn overheard us in 
passing. She paused to tell us that the White 
Hart has undoubtedly existed since the year 
1600, and may have been erected somewhat 
earlier. This corridor had been an open gal- 
lery, and Elizabethan players are known to 
have performed in the j^ard. As in all the 
inns we had seen, there were here many pieces 
of rich old mahogany and rosewood; chairs, 
tables, sofas in the corridors ; tall clocks on the 
stair landings and gilt mirrors on the walls; 
old willow china and Crown Derby in draw- 
ing-room or banqueting hall. 



The Henley Regatta 185 

On Henley's strong stone bridge we paused 
and leaned upon the rail while we looked down 
the long regatta course against whose green 
shores hundreds of punts were drawn in readi- 
ness for hire. The vivid color of flags and 
pennants amid the green gave a gala atmos- 
phere, although the stirring human element 
was still lacking. In the garden of the Red 
Lion Inn on the river bank were tables and 
chairs, mutely inviting mankind to refect un- 
der the free heaven and in the shade of trees. 
On both banks of the stream long lines of 
gaily draped stands and marquees awaited 
the regatta's interested spectators. 

When, a fortnight earlier, we had noticed 
in our morning paper an advertisement of the 
Henley Regatta, we instantly determined to 
" take it in." Our English friends, one of 
whom had once been to Henley, directed us 
to a bookseller in the Earl's Court Road who 
could furnish tickets to an inclosure known 
as Phyllis Court. We told him we could go 
only one day, preferably the last. The tickets 
would be a guinea each, he remarked in a care- 
less, offhand manner; but if we would econo- 
mize we would better subscribe the extremely 
low amount of two pounds ten, and thus be 
enabled to attend the entire three days' re- 
gatta. Paternal letters of credit, howsoever 



186 Ways and Days Out of London 

generous, have limitations, and the extent of 
our past peregrinations and future plans sug- 
gested the wisdom of avoiding unnecessary 
extravagance. In view of the inn's tariff and 
probable incidentals we frugally concluded to 
forego the Court of Phyllis and seek a less 
costly coign of vantage. 

When a woman economizes, she usually 
ends by spending more than if she had bought 
the thing of which she is denying herself, and 
burdens herself or others with makeshifts. 
Makeshifts are the most costly of purchases; 
because instead of the right thing at the right 
price, the makeshift means sacrifice of com- 
fort and convenience, plus entire absence of 
satisfaction, whereas the supposed saving of 
expenditure results in a sum total of unfore- 
seen extras which the higher price might have 
included. 

We had our experience. 

Looking down from the Henley Bridge we 
saw Phyllis Court, cool, shady. The Empire 
Stand, on which we had secured numbered 
seats at half a guinea, we descried after much 
search on the opposite side of the Thames. 

"Not so bad!" was our first half-hearted 
expression of comment. The first race was 
scheduled for one o'clock. The church clock 
now vibrated solemnly the noon hour. Re- 



The Henley Regatta 187 

member ing Yale- Harvard day along the 
sound we marveled that so few beholders had 
yet appeared on this long-established occa- 
sion. Through a trampled field, past grand- 
stands galore, malformed mendicants, and 
vendors who out-Conied Coney Island, we at 
last presented our pink tickets and climbed 
upon the Empire Stand. It was vast and 
empty, save for an usher and ourselves. 

" I am glad we came early," said Diana, 
panting a little; for we had hurried lest any- 
thing interesting be " missed." 

" It will be nice," assented Sonia, " to see 
the gathering of the clans." 

" I don't want to be skeptical," Diana re- 
marked after a time, a dead weight of forebod- 
ing anchoring the spirit that loved to soar on 
the wings of enthusiasm, " but I believe we 
are on the wrong side of the river. The shade 
of these trees will desert us and our nice front 
seats will be in the full blaze of the sun." 

Sonia hoped her friend was mistaken. 

A centipede-like shell came up the smooth 
stream coached by a man on a polo pony can- 
tering along the bank, who managed bridle 
and megaphone with much skill. 

The long line of stands of which the em- 
pire was one were set back some little distance 
from the river. Evidently the space served 



188 Ways and Days Out of London 

for promenaders. Some way down the river 
a row of houseboats was moored to the oppo- 
site poplar-bordered shore. They w^re deco- 
rated with bright flowers and awnings; and 
from each masthead hung a flag. On one Old 
Glory lay as limply as did the Union Jacks 
hard by. Could they all be weary of three 
days' regatting? Perish the thought so early 
in the day! Gradually j)unts were pushed 
into midstream and seemed to be enjoying a 
leisurely uneasiness. The women in fair rai- 
ment lolled comfortably luider gaily colored 
sunshades. Their cavaliers, standing to wield 
the long punting poles, displayed much of the 
lithe grace of gondoliers. Other crews 
" warmed up " under megaphonic instruction. 
There was promise of something to happen ere 
long. A sloe-eyed gypsy with a beautiful ])ut 
dirty baby in her arms solicited silver that she 
might tell our fortunes. Some negro minstrels 
came along, serenaded, went. We were until 
now sole occupants of a stand large enough 
to accommodate several hundred people. A 
half dozen noisy girls and men, with the easily 
provoked laugh of bourgeois birth seated 
themselves at the far end. A continuous suc- 
cession of performers selected henceforth the 
newcomers as an audience, and with singular 
discrimination passed us by — to our infinite 



The Henley Regatta 189 

relief. A ballad-bawling man having passed 
his butterfly net and collected a few coppers, 
Diana turned wearily and said to her friend: 

" I thought we came here to see boat rac- 
ing; but it appears we unwittingly engaged 
seats for a worse than concert-hall show. I 
never realized until now how much glamour is 
contributed by the limelight, or how utterly 
tawdry and banal the cruel sunlight shows 
such mummery to be." 

" Something is going to happen now! " ex- 
claimed Sonia, the optimist. 

A launch came up the course and drove the 
punts toward the shores of the river, clearing 
the way for the first race. Far below a pistol 
shot was heard; and at length two very lively 
centipedes skimmed past while a mild wave of 
voices evidently wished to encourage but not 
to alarm with too much vehemence. One or 
two men shouted; one of the boats won the 
race; then the punters pushed out into mid- 
stream again and the itinerant vaudeville con- 
tinued. All the folk on land and water seemed 
relieved that the interruption had ceased. 

Sonia looked wistfully over the heads of two 
perspiring tumblers in collarless and coatless 
street attire and the fourth-class audience 
they sought to amuse to Phyllis Court across 
the river, where women of our own sort 



190 Ways and Days Out of London 

strolled about or sat in easy chairs on the 
shady riverside terrace. With our persons 
were we paying far more than we had saved 
in shillings on that fateful day of economy. 

" If I could have a coat of arms," said Diana 
wistfullv, "I should inscribe: 'The best or 
nothing ' upon it." 

" Suppose we go to the luncheon tent now," 
said Sonia. " Perhaps there will be a rush 
later, and we have an hour to spare — or kill — 
before the next race." We sought the neces- 
sary ticket seller. Signs were plentiful, ad- 
vertising luncheons at half a crown. 

'* Seven and six each," said the ticket seller 
in a tone intended to convey the notion that 
this was the last word. Poor Diana, bearer 
of joint funds, who abominates bickering, at 
length secured what she at first requested — 
two half-crown tickets. With flushed faces 
and no appetite we approached the tents whose 
tables were heavily spread in readiness for 
people M'ho did not come and whose waiters 
were disconsolately idle. We seated ourselves. 
A waiter asked to see our tickets. 

" You must have seven-and-sixpenny tick- 
ets," he said. 

" No," replied Diana, who was having some- 
thing too much of this, " I should not. Are 
vou serving any luncheons for two and six? " 




-a 



The Henley Regatta 191 

" Yes, miss, in the next tent." 

Seated in the " next tent," another waiter 
demanded a five-shilhng ticket. Again we 
rose in our wrath and proceeded. We were 
the more enraged and humihated by the knowl- 
edge that had we been in Phylhs Court there 
Avould have been no extra charge for luncheon. 
The only comfort in the present situation was 
that we had disposed of some of the superflu- 
ous time. The following race was "eights" 
instead of " fours." That was about the only 
difference — the number of legs on each centi- 
pede. Then came an interval of two hours. 
The space before the stand was thronged with 
people, classified by the scornful Diana as 
" among the lower orders of animal life." The 
heat was intense; our seats were in the full 
rays of the sun, and what with this and utter 
ennui we were sorely tempted by the sweet 
seductiveness of sleep. We had nothing to talk 
about, nothing to do. The charm of the river 
was destroyed by the inescapable foreground. 
To force a way through throngs of perspiring 
Britons to our hotel was not to be imagined. 
We had bought seats for a " bargain matinee," 
and we had not yet wholly paid for them. So 
we nodded hea^dly in invertebrate discomfort 
during the long two hours, while organettes 
wheezed of " Poppies," brazen-voiced women 



192 Ways and Days Out of London 

shrieked of " Violets," and a cornet blew blasts 
of " Sourire d'Avril." We gave money to 
them all, silently grateful because their per- 
formances were addressed to the other end of 
the otherwise empty Empire Stand. A man on 
long-skirted stilts cavorted for the delectation 
of the gawping yokels, who should have been 
wearing smocks and chewing straws. He also 
glanced at us and passed comprehendingly to 
the loudly laughing folk at the stand's lower 
end. 

" The Henley Regatta," said Sonia scorn- 
fully, " is no regatta at all. It is a county 
fair; a pretext for giving the British public a 
holiday — three successive ones." 

" The marvel is," averred Diana, " that the 
British public can enjoy it. But it does. 
These vermin here — I am uncharitable — pre- 
fer mountebanks; the folk there on the river, 
lunching, sleeping, or reading, are pleasing 
themselves after their own manner; and those 
lovely ladies over there in that heavenly Phyl- 
lis Court are the most contented of all." 

We went out to the luncheon tent in quest 
of something liquid. Diana said she was dying 
for an ice-cream soda, and would drink no 
more warm ApoUinaris, so we compromised 
on lemon squash — iceless, of course. 

When a shot announced the coming of the 



The Henley Regatta 193 

half -past-three race, Diana avowed willingness 
to give a golden guinea to hear just one Amer- 
ican college " yell." 

'* How can they expect anybody to be in- 
terested in their old races after making us wait 
these horrible two hours? And who is inter- 
ested in the races but the racers?" Thus 
Sonia. 

When Eton had won some cup or other, 
and the lukewarm enthusiasm had ceased, we 
forced our way to the bridge, from which we 
looked down on the day's most interesting 
scene — a long, broad stretch of boat-strewn 
river ; on both sides the deep green of midsum- 
mer England. Where was the Fortuny to 
immortalize the sparkle of so brilliant a dis- 
play? The rich tone of St. Mary's bell ad- 
vised that tea time and cool rooms at the White 
Hart were at hand. 

The day's programme had included an " im- 
posing pyrotechnic exhibition " as a fit conclu- 
sion to so brilliant an occasion. In the early 
dusk we entered St. INIary's churchyard and 
paused to look at a row of pleasant almshouses 
that faced it. A young man in evening clothes 
passed us, returned and said, his hat doffed: 

"Pardon me! are you ladies looking for 
the lane to Phyllis Court? " Earlier in the 
day this would have been a rapier thrust. 



194 Ways and Days Out of London 

When he had gone beyond overhearing Diana 
said: 

" I love that dear boy for thinking we look 
as though we were going to Phyllis Court. 
He has poured balm upon my wounded spirit." 

In the darkness we paused to admire the 
homelike rooms in the almshouses, which were 
now revealed by their lighted lamps. The 
shriek of a rocket warned us that the impos- 
ing pyrotechnic exhibition was beginning. 
We hastened to the river bank, where a few 
village folk and motors were grouped. With 
them we patiently waited. Persuading our- 
selves at length that we had mistaken the 
rocket-line sound, we perceived the colored fire 
from a single Roman candle jerked off ball 
by ball. Another long wait terminated in an- 
other rocket. Then we laughed and went 
back to the White Hart's feather beds. 

The morning dawned chill and damp with 
impending rain. Despite a remarkably rain- 
less summer, we had been true to the tradi- 
tional necessity for rain coats and umbrellas. 
The littered shores of the river looked like the 
aftermath of a country circus. Even on the 
river itself we were all day subject to annoy- 
ances due to the Henley Regatta. Raftloads 
of punts clogged the locks and delayed the 
uncomplaining steamer somewhat more than 



The Henley Regatta 195 

an hour in its fifteen-mile transit between Hen- 
ley and Maidenhead. 

Sky and river were gray ; there was no hori- 
zon. Mist lay upon the meadows, and yet we, 
whom yesterday had bored, thought this day 
delightful. 

We were surprised to find that on the little 
steamer were but few passengers. Those who 
preceded us had preempted all the dozen or so 
hard, flat cushions mercifully provided to ease 
the discomfort of the boat's gridiron-like seats. 

The worn trail of the regatta past, it was 
good to see only green fields and banks un- 
trodden by humans. 

We had strolled about Henley on the pre- 
vious afternoon and found it pleasant; but 
there was little to suggest the town's great age. 
The Britons had a station there called Hanle- 
gang. But Henley boasts no historic thrills, 
though there is still standing in front of the 
grammar school an elm tree from which a 
Roundhead spy was hanged. A skirmish oc- 
curred here during the civil war. The Blue- 
coat School, now merged in the grammar 
school, was founded by a sister of Lord Bacon 
of St. Albans. Henley is famous for the 
regatta chiefly. 

Phyllis Court, our Pleasaunce of Dreams, 
was once the royal residence of the Prince of 



196 Ways and Days Out of London 

Orange, but is now one of the many clubs to 
which the river has given rise. 

At Hambleden Lock an old man disturbed 
our pleasure in the ivy-clad cottage and the 
roses over and about it by fiddling a mock- 
merry melody. Yesterday was too fresh in 
memory for us to accept kindly his squealing 
tunes; but his irascibility when pennies were 
thrown before the conclusion of his solo was 
funny; and we forgave him because he made 
us laugh. 

Below Yewden we passed an elaborate resi- 
dence of an Anglicized German, who is said 
to have been a benefactor to Hamburg. Here 
we met swans for the first time to-day. Fields 
in which hay carts were being loaded with 
fragrant burdens increased the sense of tran- 
quillity which even on a cloudy morning per- 
vades the river. Beyond the hay meadows 
gently undulating pastures, where sleek dun 
cattle grazed, inspired Diana to say: 

" No wonder cream is good in London ! " 
Sonia, in more exalted mood, quoted: 

" Like a bird singing in the rain — " 

After yesterday's hurly-burly to glide si- 
lently down the smooth river listening to bird 
notes and watching the ineffable grace of the 
swallows darting up and down, bright flashes 




Rafts loaded with jmnts returning from Henley. 



The Henley Regatta 197 

of blue and buff now dipping to the water, 
then circUng swiftly above the meadows — 
seemed like a day culled from another life. 

We had read " Sir Richard Escombe," and 
Medmenham Abbey recalled that vivid tale of 
love and intrigue. The abbey in ruins, how- 
ever, had been more picturesque than the pres- 
ent reconstructed residence, although the tower 
has been left partly in ruins, and its mantle 
of ivy has been added with the master touch 
of Nature. Diana made a note of the Abbey 
Hotel, declaring that she was " going to bring 
mother here some summer." 

Below the abbey the river becomes more 
sinuous, its banks as fresh and undisturbed as 
though 'twere Arcad3^ The sparse late-sum- 
mer flowers of the iris greeted us like dear 
friends long unseen. Suddenly a turn in the 
stream whisked us out of Arcady into Eng- 
land, whose gentry know so well where and 
how to build their country homes. High on a 
densely wooded slope a great white mansion 
gleamed amid the green. Danesfield, it must 
be, we thought, near which are the remains of a 
Danish camp. Or was this New Danesfield? 
Of its beauty, however, there was no question. 

" ' Chiltern,' " Diana read ; " ' is derived 
from the Saxon cylt, meaning chalk.' Please 
notice that all chalk hills are not ' downs.' " 



198 Ways and Days Out of London 

We had been for some time in sight of the 
Chiltern Hills, which became gradually higher 
and more impressively beautiful. Now we 
passed chalky cliffs topped with emerald. In 
every cranny grew tall foxglove, planted with 
Nature's inimitable cunning and making a 
wholly new color note in the river's gamut. 

There was many a conventual building 
along the Thames in those " good " old days 
of the Middle Ages. Choked by rafts loaded 
with punts returning from Henley was Hur- 
ley Lock; and a dense mist having shut out 
the world we read of the priory Geoffrey de 
Mandeville had founded here, which was " an- 
nexed " to Westminster Abbey not long after 
the Norman rule began. There still exists the 
crypt of the monastery where assembled se- 
cretly the nobles who were principals in the 
plot to dethrone James II and import William 
of Nassau to occupy the throne by right 
divine. 

Then there was Bisham Abbey — Bisham 
being a contraction of Bustlesham — built in 
1338 by William :Montacute, Earl of SaHs- 
bury. It is not to be wondered that Henry 
VIII, whose sub-acute appreciation of all 
beauty but feminine, chose to suppress the 
Augustinian friars of Bisham and add this 
fair abbey to his own list of royal residences. 



'fe' 




The Henley Regatta 199 

especially if its structural beauty, backed by 
tall trees and half concealed by ivy, were then 
as now enhanced by superb flower borders. 

" Southern planters say that cotton is the 
most spiritual of plants, because it can be 
grown for many successive seasons in the same 
land without detracting from the richness of 
the soil. Ivy, I should say, is the most tactful 
of plants. It always knows how much to con- 
ceal and how much to reveal." Thus spake 
Diana. 

Of all the flower-decked locks we had seen 
along the Thames, Temple Lock took prece- 
dence. Red-rose arches, tall pink-rose trees in 
full bloom, masses of Canterbury bells and 
larkspurs were offset by a background of 
lindens and elders, also in full flower and fra- 
grance. Between the old and new Temple 
Locks is a walled eyot, also gay with gerani- 
ums and the bright faces of pansies. Temple 
House, on a quiet backwater, spoke softly to 
us of England's love of home life. 

"Look!" exclaimed Sonia, indicating a 
group of three trees on a hillock some distance 
from the river, which, with the single slanting 
ray of sunlight breaking through the heavy 
clouds behind them, might have been Rem- 
brandt's chosen subject for the most beloved 
of his etchings. 



200 Ways and Days Out of London 

Henceforward for several miles — all the 
way to Maidenhead, in fact — the scenery of 
the Thames assumes a quiet grandeur that is 
surprising in consideration of the gentle un- 
dulation or uncompromising flatness of its 
valley elsewhere. Why is the Rhine so fa- 
mous? Or, rather, why is the Thames not 
equally reno^vned for beauty as well as for 
historic interest? 

Marlow is a large old town. Some of Shel- 
ley's poems were written here. Marlow's weir 
is the largest we saw ; and from the force of 
the ordinary outflow over its curved dam it is 
easy to conjecture how greatly would spring 
freshets damage the shores of the Thames but 
for the locks. " Gentlemanly Marlow! " 

The Thames has a way of confiding its se- 
crets with an almost feminine assurance that 
never before have they been revealed. Had 
our Berkshire Hills a Thames curving in their 
valleys they would be like unto the Chilterns. 
In such as the sloping Quarry Wood might 
the " real " Diana have hurled her lance. In 
such a wood might Paul and Virginia have 
dreamed away their sweet romance. Quarry 
Hall abuts on a sharp bend in the river with 
so much abruptness that Sonia held her breath 
lest the steamer's prow collide with the garden 
wall. 



The Henley Regatta 201 

Beyond the little village of Bourne End a 
long line of poplars on the river bank divides 
to disclose a low, comfortable house. Farther 
on, gigantic rustic baskets set on a broad, 
smooth lawn, filled with scarlet geraniums, 
their handles twined with graceful vines, were 
an effective fancy. 

Cookham is old enough to have been men- 
tioned in " Domesday Survey," and is charm- 
ing enough to be mentioned in many other 
books. The river here is divided into several 
channels. At Cookham Lock we were again 
delayed an unconscionable time. Inaction is 
not always restful. We were almost overcome 
by somnolence. 

" I believe," said Sonia, yawning, " that I 
prefer doing penance on the rubble quads of 
Cambridge or galloping 'round the Norman 
keep at Guildford at full speed to this en- 
forced idleness when we are so eager to catch 
a train. We must not miss the reception at 
Dorchester House! " 

A man who was gallantly pulling a rowing 
boat up the rollers at the side of the lock for 
his feminine companion lost his footing and 
slid backward; and everj^body on the steamer 
laughed inconsiderately. The lock-keeper's 
house is ivy covered, and the window sills evi- 
dently afford insufficient space for decoration. 



202 Ways and Days Out of London 

wherefore dozens of pots of geranium were 
cunningly disposed in the strong stems of the 
vine. 

" My next Dorothy Perkinses will be plant- 
ed so they can climb among shrubbery," af- 
firmed Diana. " Do you see how effective 
these are? " 

Beautiful Formosa Island, whereon nestles 
a residence in well-kept grounds, is said to be 
the largest island in the Thames. 

Cliveden was once a duke's residence and 
once that of a Prince of Wales, but has now 
fallen (?) into the hands of a much-advertised 
American millionaire. 

" He could not have shown better taste in 
selection of a country house location had his 
money been as old as these everlasting hills," 
asserted Sonia. " This is superb." 

And here was Boulter's Lock again; but 
not for us. The steamer was subject to in- 
definite delay by punts innumerable that had 
not yet reached their home. We were as- 
sisted to alight on the wall supporting the 
riverside driveway. Our bags were handed to 
us, and a cab that happened to be waiting 
bore us to the station just in time to catch a 
London train not so late as to prevent our 
presence at the embassy. 




CHAPTER XII 

Epping Forest, Waltham Abbey, Waltliam 
Cross, and Temple Bar 

SONIA had made a discovery. There is a 
forest within a very few miles of London. 

Arden and Sherwood had been vaguely for- 
mulated hopes; but now — Ho! for the Forest 
of Epping. 

Hitherto had we seen but parks — Bushey 
or Battersea. The mere word forest, however, 
thrills with outlawry, romance, fairies, and fire- 
flies. 

At Chingford station were char-a-bancs 
whose drivers bawled the intelligence that six- 
pence secured a " return drive " to High 
Beach. Diana spoke to a smiling bobby. 

" About ten shillings, I think, miss, to Wal- 
tham Cross. A shilling a mile is the usual 
price." The cabman who had offered to take 

203 



204 Ways and Days Out of London 

us for this sum was hailed. Scarcely had we 
raised our sunshades ere he halted before a 
pleasant hotel and, indicating a small cottage 
adjoining it, informed us that we " wanted " 
to see it. 

" Queen Ehzabeth's Hunting Lodge," he 
vouchsafed ; and the magic words dispelled any 
lingering hesitancy. We saw it to be a tim- 
bered building with thatched roof, recently re- 
stored, we learned. 

A toothless woman, middle aged and adi- 
pose, whom heaven had designed for a taker 
of toll — they are so singularly alike — received 
of us each threepence and a signature in her 
(greasy) visitors' book before permitting us 
to ascend the spiral stairway solidly built of 
that strong heart of oak so freely used in 
Tudor times. Up this very stair did the merry 
queen ride her favorite hunter all the way 
to the banqueting liall on the tliird story. The 
house is now used as a museum for collections 
of minerals, flora, and so forth of Epping 
Forest. We but glanced at the cases, so 
greatly were we interested in the charming old 
rooms with their great fire-places, their tapes- 
tries, and the leaded casements from which 
the queen had often looked out upon her 
hawkers making ready for the chase three 
hundred years ago. The banqueting hall has 



Epping Forest 205 

a timbered gable roof. In this room con- 
vened the dread Forest Court that by a cruel 
travesty of justice determined many a human 
fate. 

Since bibHcal days, and perhaps earher, 
royalty has ever usurped unto itself all forest 
rights — and wrongs. Essex Forest, which 
once extended beyond Colchester and Cam- 
bridge on the north and all the way south to 
the Thames, had its " Code " long before Wil- 
liam of Normandy came; but what it had lost 
in rigorous enforcement under the Confessor 
and Harold was regained under the Conquer- 
or's iron hand. The original idea of forest 
law was the protecting of deer that royalty 
would stalk. The forest was so protected that 
the people were heavily taxed to supply the 
royal coffers. The people had certain " privi- 
leges ": right of way through the forest trails 
was one. But woe to the vassal who bore a 
bow! The right of lopping the trees for fire- 
wood was another ; but if while trudging home- 
ward with a bundle of fagots a man's heart 
were pierced by an arrow intended for some 
fat buck — what mattered the loss of a human 
life as against the royal chagrin at having 
missed his quarry? When the churl infringed 
upon his scanty privileges and snared a rab- 
bit, the authorities assembled in Queen Eliza- 



206 Ways and Days Out of London 

beth's Hunting Lodge, or its predecessor or- 
dained that his hands or ears be " lopped," 
or his eyes cut out, all in the queen's or 
king's name. Often the penalty was death. 
To the poor little dog who had pointed so 
skillfully for his humble master, " justice " 
was also administered in the cutting off of 
his paws. 

Thanks to the lion-hearted Richard, who 
loved his forests and was not unwilling to be- 
friend his people when knowledge of their 
needs was brought to him — what little while 
he was in England — the cruel code was 
amended somewhat; but he needed funds for 
the pleasure trip mistakenly called crusade 
and sold some of the forest lands to his bar- 
ons, who inclosed each his o^\ti acres and thus 
made of them a park. 

The tiny, yet grim toy house of the whim- 
sical Elizabeth was soon left behind as we 
rolled along the dusty road toward Connaught 
Water. 

"Dust? " say you who know more of mud 
and mackintoshes in England. Aye, dust in- 
deed — eke drought. Only a brief shower or 
so had there been in two months. The sky 
was as boldly blue as that of America, the sun 
as hot ; and the roadsides were as whitely pow- 
dered. The superb emerald of many a closely 



Epping Forest 207 

cropped lawn was burned to ochre; and our 
parasols afforded insufficient shelter. 

" How refreshing the cool forest glades 
will be!" murmured Sonia hopefully. At 
length we began to wonder where the forest 
could be; and Diana openly expressed a doubt 
as to its very existence. 

" Broad fields are very nice, and so are the 
thin woods beyond these scrub-oaks; but I 
came to see a forest; I want my forest and I 
want it now! Driver! How soon shall we 
be in the forest? " 

He j^ulled the reins far above his shoul- 
ders and forced his steed out of an incom- 
prehensibly slow trot into a miraculously slow 
walk. 

" The — forest? We've been in the forest 
since that gate at the Hunting Lodge. This 
is the principal road." He had gathered 
the reins in one hand and turned around on 
the box for a scornful look at the young 
woman who was too stupid to know a forest 
when she saw one. Querulously he snapped 
his whip and bade his steed " plep " while we 
looked at each other in dismay. 

" How could we have expected to find a 
real forest so near London?" said Diana. 
" The Tudor builders used all the oaks for 
beams and stairways. Oh, to have lived a few 



208 Ways and Days Out of London 

centuries ago — before cathedrals were restored 
and forests felled ! " 

" There must be more than these sparse 
woods," insisted Sonia hopefully. We there- 
upon persuaded our driver to leave the main 
road for one that led through a pleasanter part 
of the woods, where tall bracken drooped 
gracefully under the trees and midsummer 
wild flowers were less laden with dust. At 
length we ascended a hill atop of which our 
semi horse-power vehicle came to a stop while a 
circling whip emphasized the announcement: 

" This 'ere is 'Igh Beach." 

" There's no beech at all! " exclaimed Diana, 
misunderstanding. High Beach we discov- 
ered to be a plateau of considerable extent, 
whereon are England's inevitable twain, a 
tavern and a church. Our attention was called 
to the alleged view of the Lea Valley far 
below; but the noonday haze left much to 
be imagined — and desired. There were re- 
freshment booths and a multitude of London 
trippers who had come in sixpenny char-a- 
haiics. The inn is pleasantly shaded by heavy 
trees. It is here that Tennyson had been in- 
spired to \vrite the " Talking Oak," and pos- 
sibly also " Locksley Hall." Before the inn 
is a semi-invalid oak which Queen Victoria 
planted on May 6, 1882, by this act " dedicat- 




Ol 



S: 
o 






Epping Forest 209 

ing the forest to the people, free forevermore." 
When Essex was an unbroken forest, the bat- 
tle-axes of conquering hordes — Celt, Roman, 
Dane, and Saxon — seeking the defenseless ht- 
tle straw-thatched, huddled towns of native 
islanders blazed many a trail that eventually 
became highway. Sovereigns enforced the 
code and took rich toll of the peasants. The 
disafforesting, which had its real beginning 
under John Sans-terre, was continued under 
subsequent merry monarchs, and by 1640 the 
Royal Forest of Essex had shrunken many 
thousands of acres ; while " landed " gentry 
were becoming ever more numerous. Accord- 
ing to the " perambulation " of that year its 
name had been changed; the Royal Forest of 
Waltham it was because the sixty thousand 
remaining acres were round about this parish. 
Fifty years ago the acres had dwindled in 
number to six thousand, so royal had been the 
spending of this treasure, and so zealous had 
Lord Wardens been in exercising their privi- 
leges of " grant " and — to speak arbor ially — 
of graft. To every shilling paid to the crown 
by the purchasers of forest lands the Lord 
Warden was accustomed to withhold for his 
own pocket a penny. Again the name was 
changed, to become Epping Forest in dis- 
tinction from that portion of Essex Forest 



210 Ways and Days Out of London 

near London, called Hainaiilt Forest — for 
the family of Edward Ill's queen — to be- 
come wholly detached from the remaining 
upper portion. At length, there being but 
thirty-four hundred acres uninclosed, the 
Corporation of London " took action," and 
after much litigation, together with delay, a 
quarter of a million sterling was paid and the 
present forest was formally presented to the 
people, in token of which Queen Victoria 
planted this oak tree on High Beach, on the 
very spot where the famous King's Oak — as- 
sociated with the Saxon king Harold — had 
stood, the stump of wliich had been removed 
for the planting of the Queen's Oak. Harold's 
lands pro])ably extended as far as this. Per- 
haps he and his Edith of the Swan Neck 
held trj^st here beside Hilda's altar, the sacri- 
ficial fires of which might have been seen far 
down the valley of the Lea. The name of the 
inn on High Beach alone perpetuates the 
memory of the King's Oak. 

"There's a ditch bank!" exclaimed Sonia, 
when we were faring onward again, " just 
like the one on my great-grandfather's farm 
in New England." 

The ditch bank proved to be a part of the 
earthworks that Boadicea's army had raised 
as a defense when Suetonius, still smarting 



Epping Forest 211 

under his defeat by her at Colchester, where 
seventy thousand Romans had been slain, at- 
tacked her untrained Iceni at these Ambres- 
bury Banks and stilled forever eighty thou- 
sand hearts of the foe. Sitting on the grassy 
mound in the shade of thicklj^ clustering trees, 
we pictured the scene, thinking chiefly of the 
brave Iceni women, who seemed pluckier than 
their lords and stationed their chariots about 
the battle field to watch the fray and urge the 
fighters to greater endeavor. Alas! that their 
superbly courageous queen must be overcome 
and captured by the Romans, whom she so 
bitterly and righteously hated. Some chron- 
iclers say she was borne to Rome, where she 
died in captivity; others that she died in Eng- 
land of poison self-administered rather than 
submit to the will of her conquerors. Certain 
iconoclastic learned folk have " decided " that 
the Ambresbury Banks were not the scene 
of this battle; but thev fail to decide in favor 
of a more likely place. 

Now at last was our longing for a " real " 
forest gratified. Green rides shaded by 
mighty trees stretched into the infinite and 
enticing beyond; under the trees bracken — as 
tall as a man — ferns and mosses triumphed! 
In the open spaces wild roses grew so pro- 
fusely that the wondrous climbers and tree 



212 Ways and Days Out of London 

roses at Kew seemed crudely artificial. Na- 
ture's untended garden is best. How the fair- 
ies must revel here in dewy moonlight! and 
how sadly must dryads and fauns have passed 
away when none believed in their presence! 

Sonia became rapturous over the blended 
perfumes of bracken, rose, and pine in the hot 
sun, and called it " heavenly." Where shad- 
ows at noontide spread twilight under the 
mighty branches we knew John Amend-All 
must be lurking, ready to speed an arrow into 
the heart of an enemy. We bade our driver 
await us a half mile or so down the road toward 
Epping while Ave loitered in the cool glades 
of Epping Thicks, compensated a hundred- 
fold for our previous disappointment. 

" When we were at Windsor," Sonia said, 
" I tried to recall the story of Henry VIII 
watching from Caesar's Tower for the signal 
of Anne Bullen's death. I remember now; 
it was a disloyal butcher whose death occurred 
then; and when poor Anne was being exe- 
cuted the king was in Essex Forest, near 
Windsor, waiting for the firing of a gun to 
announce the end. When it was heard he 
heaved a sigh of relief and exclaimed : ' The 
business is done. Uncouple the dogs and let 
us follow the sport.' Bluff King Hal!" 

When Robin of Huntingdon ruled o'er the 



Epping Forest 213 

highways in Sherwood Forest and Jerry Aver- 
shawe brandished holsters on Hounslow 
Heath, Dick Turpin was the terror of Wal- 
tham Waste. But for Harrison Ainsworth's 
sentimentalizing, however, in " Rookwood," 
Dick Turpin had been as little known to us 
as his confederates, particularly Tom King, 
whom Turpin shot by accident. Turpin was 
a cattle thief and lawless house breaker, espe- 
cially where women were alone and unpro- 
tected, quite as truly as he was " gentleman 
of the road." A band of highwaymen, known 
as the Waltham Blacks, terrorized the travel- 
ers on these lonely forest roads ere such splen- 
did creatures as bobbies existed to hale them 
to Scotland Yard. 

Before coming to the town of Epping a 
little inn is called Dick Turpin's Cave. Near 
by is a small cave where Turpin concealed 
himself and his plunder. The innkeeper treas- 
ures a cutlass and pistol together with a pair 
of spurs alleged to have been Turpin's. 

The little town of Epping was famous as 
a posting station on the Cambridge Road in 
ante-railway days; and no less was the fame 
of Epping butter and Epping pork when the 
county came to market. Now it is a quiet 
little town whose ribbon-like High Street is 
its sole thoroughfare. 



214 Ways and Days Out of London 

When we mildly reproached our driver for 
taking us to the Cock's unsatisfactory lunch- 
eon, for which we had been overcharged, he 
tactfully accepted our point of view and said 
he had not been offered his customary pint of 
ale. Diana ignored his hint and bade him 
drive on to Waltham. 

The distance, two miles, was protracted by 
the extraordinary inability of our steed to 
" drive." He took a great many steps ; but 
the result seemed to be vertical rather than 
horizontal, like the violent throbbing of a 
motor car before the clutch is thrown. 

" It is what my grandfather would have 
called ' trotting in a peck measure,' " Sonia 
said. There was no hurry, however, for the 
scent of newly cut hay and of potato blossoms, 
the midsummer beauty everywhere, soothed 
our impatience to arrive. A windmill's idle 
sails stood against the unclouded blue. 

The Lea is one of those absurdly small riv- 
ers, omnipresent in England, which wind and 
curve as winsomely through shady banks as 
e'er the tresses of a maid about a lover's heart. 
Old Izaac's favorite stream is still the bourne 
of anglers. One " compleat " specimen we 
saw — the inevitable boy with primitive tackle 
and infinite patience. 

Waltham Abbey is but a fragment of that 



Epping Forest 215 

in which Harold prayed on the eve of Hast- 
ings while Edith watched him from the shadow 
of one of its mighty piers. Its few remaining 
Norman bays are noble specimens of the no- 
blest architectural era England has experi- 
enced. These stones were tooled in genuine 
devoutness and love of work for the work's 
sake; beauty being an exigeant result. When 
the zigzag ornamentation on the arches and 
columns was inlaid with brass, no wonder the 
looters of " reformation " times coveted and 
carried it away together with the lead roof! 

Waltham spells Harold, stalwart son of 
Godwine and the last of England's Saxon 
kings. No chapter in all of England's stir- 
ring story is at once so thrilling or so fateful 
as that of Harold's brief career. His brother- 
in-law, Edward the Confessor, a large land- 
owner in Essex Forest, gave to Harold, then 
earl, the Saxon town of Wealdham (woody 
town) on the River Lea, now the boundary 
between Hertfordshire and Essex; the river 
that is " seven times parted from itself." These 
lands included a vast forest tract. The town 
had first been settled by Tovy — or Tofig — a 
standard bearer of Knut, who wanted a home 
near his shooting. Only threescore and six 
dwellers, by his wish, constituted the town in 
his day. Tovy also established here a small 



216 Ways and Days Out of London 

church, which was rebuilt by Harold when he 
became its possessor. Perhaps his rich en- 
dowment thereof consisted chiefly of the loot 
he had brought from an attack on Wells, 
whose cathedral he pillaged. He made the 
foundation educational rather than monastic, 
its incumbents being chiefly clerks and lay 
priests, of whom he created a chapter, consist- 
ing of a dean, twelve canons, and a few minor 
officers. The church was dedicated by him 
in 1060, one Adelard having been brought 
from France to be its first chancellor. Some 
say Adelard was a physician summoned to 
cure Harold of paralysis, and that the cure 
was effected, at Adelard's suggestion, by the 
miraculous rood which had been brought dur- 
ing Knut's reign from Montacute in Somer- 
set by Tofig the Proud. It is difficult to asso- 
ciate paralysis with the slayer of Hardrada. 

The rood appears again in Harold's story. 
Before the battle " at the hoar apple tree," 
a nameless field near Hastings, that the Nor- 
mans subsequently called Sanguelac — Harold 
came, as has been said, into his church to watch 
and pray while his soldiers were carousing 
near by. As he knelt before the rood the head 
of the Crucified was seen to bend forward — a 
token of calamity to the suppliant monarch. 
When the battle was done and the body of 



Epping Forest 217 

England's king had been so hacked that none 
but his beloved Edith could recognize it, and 
she only by her name tatooed on his breast, 
permission was sought for the burying of Har- 
old in his church. This was granted by the 
Conqueror; but none knows what became of 
Harold's body. The great stone sarcophagus 
that was made for it stood for hundreds of 
years before the altar, and in the twelfth cen- 
tury the monks opened it. A few bones they 
saw, which fell into dust upon contact with 
the outer air. A legend hath it that the Con- 
queror caused the body of the defeated king to 
be buried on the channel coast near Pevensey, 
where had landed the Normans to conquer the 
kingdom so bravely defended by the Saxon 
monarch. Other tales aver that when the 
arrow which blinded Harold toward the close 
of that dreadful day also felled him, he lay 
as though dead until Edith found him, pulled 
out the arrow, and escaped with him to Ches- 
ter. 

The fragmentary west end of the abbey 
church and the Lady Chapel alone remain 
to hint of the splendor of the whole. 

" Have you seen St. Bartholomew's the 
Great in London? " asked the young woman 
in custody. " It is said to be the other half of 
Waltham Abbey." 



218 IJ^aijs and Daijs Out of London 

In fancy we looked beyond the filled in and 
rose-'v^indowed east end of Waltham Abbey 
and saw the splendid apsidal curve of St. 
Bartholomew's complementing these sturdy 
side waUs. 

Until we ignorantly sought among the 
churchyard tombs some trace of Harold's 
(never-located) monument, we had not real- 
ized the abbey's once vast length. Our grop- 
ings, however, were indirectly the means of 
the day's most deliohtful discovery — the old 
^lonastery Gateway with its bridge across the 
Lea. 

As we turned away from the beautiful Elea- 
nor Cross, about which a village called Wal- 
tham Cross clusters, we mclined toward tea at 
the Four Swans whose sign spans the road; 
but the slovenly appearance of a stupid 
" boots " and serving maid diminished our 
appetite for this imi's further acquaintance. 
A pastry shop beyond the cross, where greasy 
townsfolk were partaking of the cheerful cup 
amid flies, dust, and sunbeams, was worse. 
We tried a third direction, and found what 
we needed in a clean and fragrant dairy. Re- 
stored again to ^^igor we inquired of the rosy 
lass who presided over the great blue-and- 
white bowl of milk and the butter crock on 



Epping Falsest 219 

the marble counter the way to the Temple 
Bar. Our driver, whose ten shillings had ter- 
minated at the cross, told us it was but a bit 
of a walk. Somebody else put the distance 
at two miles. The dairy maid estimated it 
at half a mile. 

Having promised to see Coppelia in the 
evening at the Empire, the five-forty train for 
London was the latest we could take. Being 
therefore hurried, we inevitably lost our way, 
but were rescued by the omnipresent whistling 
boy, who saw us safely started within the 
gates of Theobald's Park, which is pronounced 
" Tibbies." He said the bar was " stright on 
at the bottom of the road." At any other time 
we should have loitered along this shady drive- 
way in a private park that had once belonged 
to Cardinal Wolsey and later to Richard 
Cromwell and James I, and is now owned by 
a titled somebody; but London was tugging 
at us and we must needs hasten. The road, 
once a track through Essex Forest, no doubt, 
seemed to have no " bottom." We became in- 
credulous, interrogated. At length, only be- 
cause we refused to be conquered by swift time 
and sure fatigue, we found the broad stone 
gate that had spanned the Strand where now 
the City Griffin stands with Queen Victoria 
and His Majesty Edward VII, and where the 



S80 Wt99 amd IkafS Out of London 

Ijotd ^laYtff is paiamount orer the sovereign 
CTen unto this day, so much so Aat the king 
must secure penmssioQ to enter tiie city. Sir 
Cliiislc^]|ier Wren was ccanmisaooed to erect 
ibe Tanpfe Bar qq tiie Strand about fifty years 
befwe the Ma^oacier hore Soma's ancestors 
to MassaMJmsetts. Statues of royalties adorn 
it- On the heavy oaken gates that swing opei 
for her ladyship's carriage w«e iron spikes in 
tiie good qM days for the display of traitors' 
heads. Whea the wei^t of the gates ^due to 
the nurnb^ of traitorsf) had heen found to 
have ^rcakjoted the arch, and the dtv traffic 
had aMnmoosly increased, the har was taken 
do^^. — in IS 78. A year later it was erected in 
Tr i"> Park, where its dignity is en- 

y the superb trees that remain of this 
:: : : E>>ex Forest. 




CHAPTER XIII 

Dulwich and Crystal Palace 

AMONG the hordes of Americans who 
MM. dutifully — and, it is hoped, happily — 
devote long hours to becoming acquainted 
with the world-renowned canvases on the walls 
of the threefold National Gallerv in London, 
few have ever heard of — much less visited — the 
quiet little village of Dulwich which reposes 
but five miles from St. Paul's, and enshrines a 
picture gallery worthy a longer pilgrimage. 

We vaguely remembered having heard of 
this gallery, and had determined to seek it on 
a certain afternoon in early July. The morn- 
ing had flown in the happy quest of seed 
pearls and Georgian silver, so we lunched 
" with " Peter Robinson, as Sonia said of the 
cozy little restaurant tucked in a corner of one 
of our favorite shops. Chance directed that 
INIiranda and her ladyship entered the restau- 

221 



222 Ways and Days Out of London 

rant as we were leaving it. Upon learning 
our plan they passed a viva-voce vote that we 
should meet them at Claude Hebert's home in 
Norwood for tea; and a " wire " was forth- 
with dispatched to INIrs. Hebert. Why cer- 
tainly she would find it convenient. Had she 
not been urging them for weeks to bring us 
out? And this would be the j oiliest sort of 
an opportunity. Wherefore we hastened 
toward Victoria on a hay-making excursion 
into the shining hours of early afternoon. 

It was fortunate that when De la AVyk, a 
landowner in this part of Surrey about the 
time of the conquest, established a village on 
his estate, the great highway to London was 
not its chosen locality — fortunate for those who 
like to find rustic oases in the aridity of mod- 
ern townful and city-spread territory that, 
even in the Old World, is swiftly effacing the 
last traces of a picturesque past. To the Clu- 
niac Priory at Bermondsey the manor and 
lands of De la Wvk were rovallv bestowed bv 
Henry I, who thus exercised the " divine right 
of kings " by pilfering from Peter in order to 
propitiate Paul. Gradually the name of the 
former owner of the estate — for some things 
cannot perish — became softened to Dilwj'-sshe, 
and as Dulwdch still lives. Happy must this 
priory have been, for almost nothing of its 



Dulwich and Crystal Palace 223 

history is known. No Friar Thomas, no 
Roger of Wendover was here to record the 
deeds of monks and men. Some Httle talk 
there was of a convent at Halliwell whose pri- 
oress in 1245 compelled Bermondsey's prior 
to an agreement regarding the tithes in *' Est- 
Dilewich," which had been converted from 
woodland into " tilth " ; by which agreement 
the convent won advantage. Bermondsey 
Priory became an abbey, which in 1539 
yielded to the protestant axe of Henry VIII; 
but rather than await the inevitable blow upon 
the abbey's massy doors the astute abbot vol- 
untarily surrendered his domains to the crowTi, 
thereby obtaining for himself a pension of 
three hundred and thirty-three pounds an- 
nually. Merry Hal sold the abbey togetlier 
with Dulwich manor and lands to one Thomas 
Calton, a goldsmith, whose grandson, Sir 
Francis Calton — a youth from whom money 
was soon parted — mortgaged a portion of the 
Dulwich estate in 1602 to one Sir Robert Lee, 
who was not a Confederate general, but Lord 
Mayor of London. 

In the days of Elizabeth and James I, a 
pleasure that had previously been proscribed 
in England began to permitted. One Edward 
Alleyn, an actor, made so bold as to erect on 
the Bankside — a quiet bit of Thames bank 



224 Ways and Dai/s Out of London 

opposite the most populous part of the city — 
a playhouse, the Rose Theater, wherem he 
acted Lier, Borneo, the Moore of Vents, Ba- 
rabhas in the " The Rich Jew of Malta," and 
in other dramas. The venture succeeded and 
Alleyn's friend and fellow actor, WilHam 
Shakspeare, estabhshed nearby the Globe 
Theater. In a few years the Swan and Hope 
theaters were added, and all London crossed 
to the Bankside to be amused and thrilled. 
According to Taylor, the " Water Poet," the 
watermen employed in ferr^nng the folk across 
at fourpence per capita numbered forty thou- 
sand. 

Diana did some figuring. " Allowing five 
passengers to each ferr\Tnan," she said, " and 
considering how many of London's present 
theaters would be requisite to seat two hun- 
dred thousand people, it is only fair to sup- 
pose that Taylor was a strong-water poet 
whose license, poetic and alcoholic, exceeded 
even the elastic bounds of his profession." 

Certain it is, however, that the queen had 
her state barge for crossing from Queenh\i:he 
to the Bankside, which boasted " two splendid 
cabins beautifully ornamented with glass win- 
dows, painting, and gilding." This barge is 
beheved to have been bought after her death 
by Alle}*n, who caused a stately mantel to be 



Dulvcich and Crystal Palace 225 

made of it ; and this mantel may be seen to-day 
in the library of Duhvich College. How came 
this to pass? Listen and learn! 

" Edward Allin," says Fuller, in his 
" Worthies of England," " was bred a stage 
player, a calling which many have condemned, 
more have questioned and some few have ex- 
cused, and far fewer conscientious people have 
commended. He was the Roscius of our age, 
so acting to the Ufe that he made any part, 
particularly a majestic one, to become him. 
He got a very great estate, and in his old age, 
follo^^ing Christ's counsel — he made friends of 
his ' unrighteous mammon,' building there-^ith 
a fair college at Dulwich — for the rehef of 
poor people." 

The sacred counsel to which Fuller refers 
is probably the reputed appearance on the 
stage of the devil in person while Alle^Ti was 
pla}^g Faust us. 

In every great awakening of the world the 
light of one great personality more or less 
dims others of exceptional brilliance and force. 
In his day Edward Alle\Ti was more talked of 
than was William Shakspeare; but now his 
fame is faded in the strong ray of Shak- 
speare's glory. 

Xash, in " Pierce Pennyless, his Supplica- 
tion to the De%'il," savs of Alle^Ti: " Xot 



226 Ways and Days Out of London 

Roscius, nor ^sope, those tragedians admyred 
before Christ was borne, could ever perform 
more in action than famous Ned Alleyn." 

Dekker, too, speaks well of him, especially 
of his " well-tunde voice." Others of his con- 
temporaries extol his skill ; most noteworthy of 
such expressions is Ben Jonson's epigram: 

To 

Edward Allen. 

If Rome so great and in her wisest age 

Fear'd not to boast the glories of her stage, 

As skillful Roscius and grave Aesop, men, 

Yet crown'd with honours, as with riches, then ; 

Who had no lesse a trumpet of their name, 

Than Cicero, whose every breath was fame: 

How can so great example dye in mee, 

That, ALLEN I should pause to publish thee? 

Who both their graces in thyself hast more 

Out-strlpt, than they did all that went before: 

And present worth in all dost so contract, 

As others speake but only thou dost act. 

Weare this renoune. 'TIs just, that who did give 

So many poets life, by one should live. 

In the zenith of his career as an actor, as 
manager and owner of the Rose Theater, of 
the Paris Garden — for bull-and-bear baiting 
— and of the Fortune Theater, Alleyn retired 
from public life to become a landowner, 
farmer and philanthropist. About the time 



Dulwich and Crystal Palace 227 

Sir Francis Calton's tailor was sewing up the 
holes that departed pounds had burned in that 
gentleman's pockets, in preparation for the 
reception of sums about to be advanced by- 
Sir Robert Lee on Calton's estate at Dul- 
wich, Edward Alleyn began to look for land 
to buy. The Lord Mayor was glad to have 
the mortgage redeemed, and the great actor 
made his first purchase of an estate which ulti- 
mately comprised thirteen hundred acres and 
extended from the crest of Sydenham Hill to 
that of Heme Hill, three miles nearer Lon- 
don. He had long dreamed of establishing 
a " hospital " for the poor of the four parishes 
in London, which partly furnished his for- 
tune, by inheritance and by marriage. His 
birth had occurred in that of St. Botolph's 
without Bishopsgate, two years after the Bard 
of Avon's voice was first " heard to roar " in 
Stratford. Alleyn's marriage with Joan 
Woodward being childless after twenty years, 
he began " playing the last act of his life so 
well " as to gain honor and further fame. 
Living at Dulwich Manor, and still making 
occasional visits to the court at Greenwich, 
Windsor, or Whitehall in his capacity as 
" Master of the King's Games of Beares, 
Bulls, and Dogges," he resigned all his pro- 
fessional successes and interests. 



228 Ways and Days Out of London 

Because Inigo Jones was present at the 
dedicatory exercises of the College of God's 
Gift, as Alleyn's foundation was called, it was 
thought by many that he was its architect. 
If so he committed ignoble errors in construc- 
tion, for Alleyn spent large sums on repairs 
during his lifetime, and the tower was so in- 
secure that it fell twenty years after it was 
built. Probably Benson, the builder employed 
by Alleyn, drafted the " j^lotte." It seems 
naive that in order to provide funds for the 
tower's restoration the fellows were deprived 
of salary j^^'o tern. The College of God's 
Gift was begun in 1613, and completed four 
years later. Still longer, however, was de- 
layed the charter of incorporation, " for set- 
ting his lands in mortmain," for Chancellor 
Bacon endeavored by star chamber finesse to 
divert Alleyn's gift to the establishing of lec- 
tureships at Oxford and Cambridge. Alleyn's 
letters patent were nevertheless issued in June, 
1619. The purpose of his gift appears to 
have been double: almshouses for the aged 
and for youth a college which should gra- 
tuitously educate a certain number of impe- 
cunious boys. These beneficiaries were to be 
chiefly selected from the four parishes in Lon- 
don previously referred to — St. Giles, Cam- 
berwell; St. Botolph, without Bishopsgate; 



Dulrmch and Crystal Palace 229 

St. Savior's, Southwark, and " that part of 
St. Giles's without Cripplegate which is in the 
county of Middlesex." The original letters 
patent specified " six poor old brethren, six 
poor sisters, and twelve poor schollers." 

" Nice of hiin," said Sonia, " not to call the 
sisters old." 

With ceremony and sermon the College of 
God's Gift was dedicated in September, 1619, 
Lord Chancellor Bacon, Lord Arundell, Inigo 
Jones, and certain other celebrities among the 
invited guests. Later, Alleyn wished to ex- 
tend the gratuities of his foundation, and 
shortly before his death, which occurred in 
1626, drew up statutes ordaining that in addi- 
tion to the original twelve poor " schollers," 
who were " to pay such allowance as the mas- 
ter and wardens shall appoint," there were to 
be six chanters for singing in chapel and 
teaching music. This amendment to the origi- 
nal foundation was proved to be illegal and 
his wishes were disregarded. For more than 
two hundred years the beneficiaries of the 
school were restricted to the original twelve 
boys. 

The founder tied a string to his gift, which 
was largely responsible for the slipshod way in 
which the institution was managed, and which 
inevitably bred discontent and dissatisfaction; 



230 Ways and Days Out of London 

lie required that master and warden of the 
college be always Alleyns. Whereby he over- 
looked the probability that the name was less 
essential to the welfare of the college than 
the capability of master and warden. Until 
1858 the name of Allen obtained, but bv that 
time the entire foundation stood in need of 
reconstitution; so the Court of Chancery took 
the matter in hand. Edward Alleyn had left 
regulations for salaries and maintenance of 
the master, warden, and four fellows (preach- 
er, master of the school, usher, and organist ) , 
also for the diet and clothing of the pension- 
ers. He ^\Tote out rules for management of 
the estate, servants, subjects of instruction in 
the school and hours for service in the chapel. 
The master was to be chief ruler in Dulwich 
village, the warden collector of rents. 

A certain James Allevn, who was chosen 
warden in 1712, and became master nine years 
later, was a benefactor to the village. He es- 
tablished a charity school to teach " poor boys 
to read, and poor girls to read and sew." In 
1877 this was restricted by Act of Parliament 
or Chancery to girls, and is now kno^Mi as 
" James Allen's Girls' School." 

Edward AllejTi refrained from active mem- 
bership in his college, although a fat memo- 
randum-diary is still preserved there in which 




to 
to 
O 






S5 



to 



Dulwich and Crystal Palace 231 

he recorded his intimate interest in its daily 
Hfe. He engaged the boys in theatrical per- 
formances, and in January, 1622, he says: 

" The boyes play'd a playe." 

The present buildings of the college are ex- 
ceedingly modern and not conspicuously peri- 
odic, although the style is declared to be Ital- 
ian Renaissance. They might indeed be any 
one of the numerous red-brick state normals 
in the transatlantic child of JNIother England. 
A host of white-flanneled students was play- 
ing tennis on the broad lawns in front of the 
coUege as we approached. These buildings 
are nearly half a mile distant from the old 
college. They were erected in 1870, and for- 
mally opened by the Prince of Wales. The 
great hall is cleverly patterned after the lofty 
old style of the Tudors, and is a close second 
to the finest in Oxford or Cambridge. 

JNIany portraits of Alleyns and others hang 
in the college. Under one of James Allen, 
he of the Girls' School, is an inscription to the 
effect that he was " six feet High, Skilful as 
a Skaiter, a Jumper, athletic, and humane." 
Romney was the portrayer of his successor, 
Joseph Allen, ]M.D. 

Some anecdotes of the Rev. Ozias Thurston 
Linley, whose portrait also hangs in the col- 
lege, caught our fancy. He was chosen organ- 



232 Ways and Days Out of London 

ist in 1816. While giving instruction in music 
— which had been well taught him by his gifted 
father at Bath — he displayed what some would 
call the " temperament artistic." When he 
was not twisting his snuffbox rapidly between 
his fingers he was pulling his wig awiy, and as 
often as not it was hindside foremost, and his 
bald pate gleaming in the gap. In the dining 
hall, too, seeking in his own chaotic way to 
restore order among the boys, he would pound 
upon the table till he " put the glasses and 
decanters in serious jeopardy." Like many 
musicians and college professors, he was af- 
flicted with absent-mindedness. Upon one 
occasion, going to play somewhere beyond 
Norwood, he set off on horseback, as was his 
custom. " ' What have I to pay? ' said he, com- 
ing to a turnpike, whip in hand, with a bridle 
trailing on the ground. ' You have naught to 
pay, sir,' replied the keeper ; ' you have left 
your horse behind you, sir.' " The horse had 
stumbled and thrown him; but Ozias, like the 
soul of John Brown, went " marching on." 

The college has many precious mementoes 
of Edward Alleyn and of his friends and fel- 
low players, Shakspeare, Marlowe, Burbage, 
Jonson, Greene, Peele, Bond, Field, Sly, and 
others of the long list of famous men of Eliza- 
bethan times. The authorities of Dulwich Col- 



Dulwich and Crystal Palace 233 

lege, albeit Alleyns, have been monumentally 
reckless of many precious opportunities. The 
Alleyniana that exist happen not to have been 
destroyed. Chance alone has preserved them 
for the delight of those who in our time appreci- 
ate such things so fully. The lost and destroyed 
papers and books far outbalance the few that 
escaped oblivion. David Garrick once ob- 
tained from the master of the college a num- 
ber of Elizabethan manuscripts and early edi- 
tions in exchange for a parcel of new books! 
Garrick's bargain is happily preserved in the 
British Museum; but how much of equal or 
greater value went into the dustbin? 

In the college library are now treasured 
many of Alleyn's papers. Letters to Joan, his 
wife, who stayed behind v/hile the plague raged 
in London and all the players went " on tour," 
begin: "My good sweete harte and loving 
mouse." Here is a bit of the long inventory 
of his theatrical apparel: 

CLOKES 

A Scarlett cloke with ij brode gould laces with gould 
buttons of the same down the sids, for Leir, 

A purpell sattin welted with velvett and silver twist 
Romeos. 

A long blak tafata cloke. 

A colored bugett for a boye. 



234 Ways and Days Out of London 

GOWNES 

Hary the VIII gowne. 

A crimosin bestrypt with gould fact with ermin. 

A cloth of gould Candish his stuf. 

ANTIK SUTES 
Blew damask cote for the Moore in Venis. 
Among the doublets &c., were 
** Pryams hoes in Dido." 

Somewhere (in the diary, I think) he noted 
under " howshowld stuff " the purchase of a 
copy of Shakspeare's " Sonnets " for five- 
pence. In the college library may also be 
seen one of Alleyn's own posters: 

To-morrow, being Thursdae, shal be seen at the 
Bear Garden on the Bank Side, a great match played 
by the gamesters of Essex, who hath challenged all 
comers whatsoever, to plaie five Dogges to the single 
Beare for five pounds, and also to wearie a Bull dead 
at the stake, and for their better content shall have 
pleasant sport with the Horse and Ape, and whipping 
of the Blinded Beare. Vivat Rex. 

" Shame on the English that they ever could 
tolerate such horrors! " Thus Sonia, her face 
twisted with the shuddering thought. 

" To their credit rather, let us say, since they 
quickly wearied of so grewsome a pastime," 
Diana pleaded. 



Dulwich and Crystal Palace 235 

Even when this sort of " sport " was in its 
heyday of popularity there were voices lifted 
in protest. Of Skelton's verses here is an ex- 
cerpt : 

What folly is this to keep with danger 
A great mastive dog and fowle ouglie bear, 
And to this end to see them two fight 
With terrible tearings a ful ouglie sight. 

A detachment of parliamentary troops un- 
der Colonel Atkinson was quartered on the 
college in 1647; and the merry soldiers, when 
fighting was not the order of the day, amused 
themselves in the chapel — without remon- 
strance from their commander — by pulling out 
organ pipes and keys, tearing open coffins for 
lead to mold into bullets, and doubtless play- 
ing many a prank with the coffins' contents. 
The vestry became a stable during their stay. 

The chapel is one of the few remaining por- 
tions of the old college of Alleyn's foundation, 
and but little of this has been spared. The 
inscription was erased from Alleyn's tomb by 
the troopers; but it has been replaced: 

Here Lyeth the Bodie of Edward Alleyn 

Esq. the Founder of this Church and 

College who died the 21st day of November 

1626 aetat 61. 



236 Ways and Days Out of London 

It was at one time averred that he was not 
interred here. Some said his tombstone stood 
in a field in Half Moon Lane. Perhaps the 
Cromwellian practical jokers put it there. 
Alleyn's body is known not to be underneath 
the present stone in the chapel; but it is be- 
lieved to lie near by. 

The Rev. James Hume, a fellow of the col- 
lege early in the eighteenth century, gave to 
the chapel a font, and he it was who wrote the 
inscription to Alleyn on the outside of the 
porch, which finally exhorts him who reads: 

Beatus ille qui miseritus est paupurem 
Abi tu et fac similiter. 

The fellows, however, being human, preferred 
to contemplate the welfare of ego and gave as 
little heed to this exhortation as to Alleyn's 
statutes, which should have been morally if 
not legally binding to those intrusted with the 
administration of his gift. There was formerly 
on the south wall of the chapel a painted in- 
scription to Joan, stating that she was interred 
in the " Quire of this Chappell." A stone in 
her memory on the chancel has also vanished. 
The warm color of Giulio Romano's copy 
of Raphael's " Transfiguration," which now 
glows on the north wall, originally stood over 



Dulwich and Crystal Palace 237 

the communion table, but was removed in order 
to permit more light to enter from the window 
there. In 1712 the church register records 
the marriage of John Lucas and Mary Pepys. 

" I wonder if she could have been Samuel's 
sister? " 

" I wonder if he was related to Sir George 
Lucas, of Colchester? " we queried simulta- 
neously. During the eighteenth century two 
actors were buried in the churchyard ; and here 
was buried, also, Bridget, queen of the famous 
Norwood gypsies, from whom are descended 
several of Heme Hill's " first " families. 
Speaking of families, Sonia said: 

" I have been wondering whether Edward 
Alleyn was related to the Vicar of Bray? Was 
not his name Simon Alleyn? " 

The estate of God's Gift College is not now 
as large as Alleyn's, but still comprises many 
acres. The playground alone occupies twenty- 
five, and Dulwich Park — now public — nearly 
eighty. The new college buildings were 
erected on the old common. The chapel, be- 
ing a part of the original structure, is there- 
fore some distance from the new buildings. 
Adjoining it are the almshouses which con- 
tinue Alleyn's eleemosynary purpose. And 
here, too, as modestly as any wood violet, hides 
'neath wide-branching trees and thickly clus- 



238 Ways and Days Out of London 

tering rose vines that which we had come forth 
to see — but had well-nigh forgotten in the in- 
tense interest bestirred in us by Edward Al- 
leyn and his Golden Age — the Dulwich Art 
Gallery. 

This one-story red-brick building occupies 
part of the site of the old college, although it 
is of recent construction. About the begin- 
ning of the nineteenth century King Stanis- 
laus, of Poland, commissioned Monsieur De- 
senfans, a famous London art dealer, to collect 
paintings suitable to adorn a national gallery 
at Warsaw; but Poland's " Dammerung " had 
already begun to darken and Warsaw was 
destined to lose not only her king — whose 
*' paper tabard " was plucked off — but the pic- 
ture gallery he had planned. Desenfans found 
his title of Polish consul-general to be about 
as empty as the purse that had paid for a val- 
uable collection of pictures; so he published a 
catalogue of the aggregation and advertised 
the " goods " for sale. At the time of his death 
he still had thirty-nine of the one hundred and 
eighty-eight he had bought for Stanislaus. 
These Desenfans bequeathed to Sir Peter 
Francis Bourgeois, a member of the Royal 
Academy, together with many other notable 
canvases acquired in the meantime. Bour- 
geois was the son of a Swiss watchmaker who 



Dulwich and Crystal Palace 239 

wished the lad to enter the English army, 
which was all but accomplished when he became 
acquainted with Desenfans and determined to 
be a painter. He was sufficiently successful 
to receive from King Stanislaus the Order of 
Merit and to be elected to membership into the 
English Royal Academy. In the Dulwich 
Gallery are about twenty of his canvases which 
might, alas! have been stacked in somebody's 
hayloft but for his bequest of them to the 
College of God's Gift, together with the su- 
perb collection which had come to him from 
Desenfans. 

In 1814 the gallery was opened; but at 
first visitors were admitted only on certain 
days, and the tickets must be procured from 
specified London art dealers. Now, every 
day, save Sunday — O Sabbath-sealed Britain! 
— the gallery is free to all. 

Of these wondrous pictures which shall first 
be named? Mrs. Siddons as the " Tragic 
Muse " comes uppermost in memory, one of 
Sir Joshua's masterly works. Oddly enough, 
next floats to the surface of the pool of mem- 
ory the tiny water-color portrait of " Queen 
Victoria in Childhood," by S. P. Denning. 
The list of painters includes such names as 
Rembrandt, Van Dyck, Cuijp, Teniers, Ve- 
lasquez, Murillo, Claude, Raphael, Dolci, 



240 Ways and Days Out of London 

Gainsborough, Hobbema, and so forth. Some 
bumpy Rubens nudes and goddess-Hke ones 
of Van der Werff ; some children of Murillo's 
brush and a St. John by Guido; an exquisite 
httle panel by Annibale Caracci and a large, 
glowing Ruijsdael; the lovely Van Dyck 
" JNladonna," whom he must have loved — for 
he painted her many times ; this gallery is rare 
in that it contains very little that is bad amid 
very much that is good. It was comforting 
to be spared the weariness of traversing long 
corridors on whose walls hang but a few fine 
pictures among hundreds of mediocre ones. 
Diana gave utterance to this sentiment. 

" Draw a veil over that sad, yet funny Cart- 
wright collection," said Sonia, referring to 
the group of pictures bequeathed to the col- 
lege in 1686 by William Cartwright, a Lon- 
don bookseller. They were chiefly portraits 
of Elizabethan actors, Burbage, Bond, Field, 
and others ; but the keeper of the gallery wisely 
gives them a room to themselves, so a glance 
is sufficient to show the visitor that they are — 
what tliey are. 

" Here's a LawTence portrait — Linley." So- 
nia was stooping to see the name. 

" Not Ozias? " Diana exclaimed. " Yes, 
when he was a boy. What a dear! " 

" And here," said Sonia from beyond; " are 



Dulwich and Crystal Palace 241 

his two sisters, Mrs. Sheridan and Mrs. Tick- 
ell. Why she is Sir Joshua's ' St. Cecilia ' ! " 

" And also the Maid of Bath, famous not 
alone for her beauty, but for her singing and 
as the heroine of Foote's ' Comedietta.' What 
an interesting life she had! And Mrs. Tick- 
ell's career was almost as picturesque. I am 
so glad we liked dear, absent-minded Ozias, 
who, it seems, gave all these Linley portraits 
to the college. Our interest in him makes all 
these painted people so much more human. 

We found a portrait of Lord Bacon, whose 
tomb we had seen in old Verulam. What is 
there more mysterious, more baffling, and at 
the same time more alluring than the human 
face, especially when one seeks in it traces of 
character known to dwell behind its seldom 
transparent mask? There were Beechey's and 
Northcote's portraits of Sir Peter Francis 
Bourgeois; another of Northcote's showed us 
M. Desenfans; and of Stanislaus of Poland 
there is one by an unknown — unsigned — 
artist. 

There was no time left us for visiting the 
little mausoleum containing the tombs of M. 
Desenfans, his wife, and Sir Peter, whose 
names are so generously and permanently as- 
sociated with this gallery. 

Croxted Lane we came upon; but alas! 



242 Ways and Days Out of London 

there stands no longer at its " top " the manor 
house that was ancient when Edward Alleyn 
and his Joan came to live in it. A few years 
ago the land on which it stood was let for 
building purposes, but the lessee was per- 
mitted to destroy the manor — and he built 
nothing I Walker Weldons are omnipresent. 

Of the College of God's Gift we read occa- 
sionally in the writings of English men of let- 
ters. 

Evelyn says : " I went to see Dulwich Col- 
lege, being the pious foundation of one Allen, 
a famous comedian in King James's time. 
The Chapell is pretty, the rest of the Hospital 
very ill contrived, yet it maintains divers poor 
of both sexes. ... I came back by a certain 
medicinal Spa at a place called Sydnam Wells, 
in Lewisham Parish, much frequented in sum- 
mer." 

In Horace Walpole's loquacious letters to 
the Misses Berry, he says: " This morning I 
went with Lysons the Reverend to see Dul- 
wich College, founded in 1619 by Alleyn, a 
player, which I had never seen in my many 
days. We were received by a smart divine 
with black satin breeches, but they were giving 
new wings and new satin breeches to the good 
old hostel, too, and destroying a gallery with 
a very rich ceiling, and nothing will remain of 




s 

en 









CO 

(to 






Dulwich and Crystal Palace 243 

ancient but the front and a hundred mouldy 
portraits among apostles, sibyls and kings of 
England." 

" I wonder," said Sonia ; " if he refers to 
the immortal Cart'vmght collection? We were 
hastening back to the railway lest we miss the 
train on which we had promised to proceed to 
Xorwood, when a big motor car came purring 
toward us down the shady road which we were 
about to cross. We stood aside for it to pass, 
at which instant several arms began to -wildly 
wave at us while female voices shrieked: 
"So!" "Di!" These were the nicknames 
Lady Maude and Miranda had given us; and 
as the motor backed, belching smoke and dust, 
veils were lifted and our friends' faces became 
recognizable. They had come to drive us over 
to Norwood. We went through a toll gate — a 
pleasant reminder of past annoyance — and by 
way of College Road sped past the college and 
Duh^dch Park, past the great Crystal Palace 
at Sydenham, which we might not stop now 
to see, for the muezzin had called the hour of 
tea. A cozy tea in a pretty English home, 
whose doors led out into a fair English garden, 
is as pleasant an experience as is afforded in a 
long English summer day. Large, luscious 
strawberries from Kent's sunnv fields were 
brought in on heaped-up platters. The while 



244 Ways and Days Out of London 

we did full justice to them and to several cups 
of tea and slices of plum cake, we heartily ex- 
tolled England and everything English, to the 
kindly strangers who gave us so cordial a wel- 
come. 

There is nothing now in Norwood to sug- 
gest the simple life of the Romany tribes who 
made it headquarters during many years; but 
it is a quiet, shady suburb, whose pretty 
houses are homes, each of which has ample 
ground for dooryard and garden. 

Our plan had been to dine a quatre at the 
Crystal Palace and stay for the fireworks ; but 
we found the giant glass-house so anticlimactic 
after the peculiarly rare delight of the after- 
noon at Dulwich that we all voted " yea " 
when Miranda proffered an invitation to din- 
ner in Finboro Road and a long twilight 
on their flower-decked balcony overlooking 
Brompton Cemetery, whence we could see 
sufficient feu d'artifice at the Earl's Court 
Exhibition beyond the graves and the trees 
a-twitter. 

" But you must see the palace, now you are 
here!" they said. So Mr. Hebert's car 
brought us to the High Level entrance. The 
Crystal Palace is as useless as it is im- 
mense and imposing. It affords lodgment for 
cat shows and for cycle exhibitions. The Bar- 



Dulwich and Crystal Palace 245 

num and Bailey Circus oft has saved its life. 
Here Londoners do congregate for many pur- 
poses of entertainment, varying in character 
from cricket matches to oratorio. Baedeker 
is inclined to be somewhat expansive in praise 
of the palace's attractions. Sonia said he must 
have received his information from a coster, 
for that was the only sort of person we saw 
there who appeared to enjoy it. Some British 
tourists from far counties closed their mouths 
long enough to read their guide-books' eulogy 
of the palace's cost, its extent, and its " art." 
The palace is a left-over from the first world's 
fair ever held, and was for many years a 
world's wonder. Some of the inhabitants of 
the earth have not yet discovered that it is 
now a monument to sentiment. 

" Every year at Christmas," said Miranda, 
" they have an immense tree in the center 
there. Last Christmas the tree was given by 
Sir Jeremiah Colman. It was about ninety 
feet high, and from it a hundred and twenty 
thousand toys were distributed among the 
poor. They have given up the old custom of 
having Father Christmas give them out — such 
a pity, I think; but they still have him here, 
although the clowns hand the toys to the chil- 
dren in the ' circus.' " 

Some sort of an exhibition there was, strung 



246 Ways and Days Out of London 

tawdrily along through endless aisles and cor- 
ridors. We dragged wearily past embroidered 
cheap-expensive shawls, beaded moccasins, 
burnt leather souvenirs, and post cards. We 
tried not to be too peremptory in our persistent 
refusal to become interested in the wares that 
bedizened girls or tinsel-and-velvet-coated men 
raucously advertized and held toward us in 
greasy hands. Had the place been less vast 
we could have better appreciated its few beau- 
ties, such as fountains, palms, and plaster casts 
of classic statues. The aquarium, with its 
prisoned fishes ever silently saying, " bop, bop, 
bop," held no charm for us, and when our 
friends suggested seeing the monkeys, we 
made haste into the gardens. The superb view 
from the terrace restored for the moment our 
peace of mind. We did not try to see all of 
the gardens M^hen we learned that they com- 
prise about two hundred acres, but strolled 
among flower borders and sought a place to 
rest. There were benches in plenty, but all 
were preempted by costermongeresses and 
Tommy Atkinses making love with so ruthless 
an ardor that we were too horrified to laugh. 
" I know now," said Diana, " why Tommy 
wears his pillbox on the side of his head. I 
have often wondered." Other sportive young 
creatures in Arcadian simplicity of manner 



Dulwich and Crystal Palace 247 

played leapfrog or kiss-in-the-ring, noise be- 
ing the chief element in their enjoyment. 
When the frogs — female — were bowled over 
in the exuberance of the game and rolled down 
hill, screaming, we turned away summarily. 
But on the broad walk we came face to face 
with a half dozen girls and men bearing empty 
beer mugs and displaying the effect of their 
imbibing. Bacchanalia in Arcadia may have 
been picturesque, which is not true of Crystal 
Palace Gardens. As we stood aside to allow 
them ample space for passing us, one of the 
men winked solemnly at Sonia and bawled: 

" Thire awl lidies, real lidies ; eyen't ye 'Ar- 
riet?" 

" I'm glad," Diana said, " that we decided 
not to stay for the fireworks. Let us go down 
to the Low Level station and wait there for 
our train." 




CHAPTER XIV 

Colchester 

GOING out from London whether by 
railway, road, or river its immensity 
was borne in upon us more fully than was 
possible in traversing the city even from Clap- 
ham to Islington or from Stepney to Ham- 
mersmith. The throbbing heart of the me- 
tropolis, where great human tides surge and 
swell, stimulates by its very intensity. As we 
pass through the outlying districts the pulse 
beats more slowly, life becomes level; the very 
types of buildings express a passivity, a luke- 
warmness not like the peace of rurality, but 
merely a surcease from the city's strife. 

As there must be some unsightly corners in 
the most sumptuous palace, so in order that 
]\Iayf air may glitter at night and its daily linen 
be cleansed, gasometers, laundries, and so forth 
must exist, however unsightly they may look 

248 



Colchester 249 

from the windows of a railway carriage. Once 
past these districts, however, the dividing hne is 
definite, and there is no straggHng aftermath 
of oil tanks, cemeteries, and dump heaps, such 
as surround New York in all directions. You 
are either in London or out of it. Once out 
of it the train is magically gliding past hedge- 
rows, undulous farms, and the graceful elms 
more common in England now than her fa- 
mous oaks. 

We had been whirled through Kent's rich 
dales, through the lush fens of Cambridge- 
shire, and Surrey's heath-topped downs. In 
Essex, upland pastures rotated around us, 
scarlet bean-blossoms vied with the poppies' 
flaunting flame ; little curling roads led to dis- 
tant toy villages among clustering trees, where 
square church towers rose above red-roofed 
farms and thatched cottages. An occasional 
windmill's slow red sails revolved against the 
sky. The great hay ricks were diminishing 
like mammoth loaves of bread from which thick 
slices had been cut. We were never so fortu- 
nate as to see the giant bread knife that would 
seem to be necessary. Along the railway 
banks were narrow strips of garden, between 
hedge and track. Often they seemed miles 
away from a village ; but they were well tended 
and promised beans or potatoes in plenty. 



250 Ways and Days Out of London 

Have you ever seen cloud shadows romp- 
ing over a field of grain while the wind rip- 
ples and waves its surface? Have you watched 
a black squall blow across East Anglia from 
the sea, beating the trees into a fury of re- 
sistance, laying its heavy hand upon the sun- 
shine and flinging in a brief moment of frenzy 
its great pearls broadcast o'er copse and pas- 
ture, only to laugh again and chase your fly- 
ing train with a rainbow whose two pale ends 
splash color through pasture and pool in its 
headlong race? If so, you know something 
of the beauty of Off'a's domain, of the gentle 
Eadmund's kingdom — aye, and of Old King 
Cole's as well! 

You thought King Cole, like King Arthur, 
was a myth ! You will believe in King Arthur 
when you have seen Tintagel on the wild 
Cornish coast. Perhaps you will believe in 
Old King Cole when you have seen his " Cas- 
tle " and " Kitchen " in Colchester. 

In the earliest of Anglo-Saxon manuscripts 
and in the triads of the Welsh troubadours 
mention is made of King Coel. Coel Gode- 
bog — the good fellow — probably a Norseman, 
conquered and killed Asclepiodotus, a king of 
the Britons. Constantius, one of Caesar's gen- 
erals, who afterwards became Emperor Con- 
stantius I, accepted the apology which Coel 



I 



i^. 




One remains, the Ballon Gate. 



Colchester 251 

thought incumbent to make, on condition that 
Helena, Coel's beautiful daughter, be given 
him to wife. This same Helena became the 
mother of Constantine the Great. Helena 
was born at Colchester — or Camulodunum — 
as it was then. She was long worshiped as 
the town's patron saint, and is represented in 
the earliest Seal of the Bailiffs, while in some 
early charters of the borough she and Con- 
stantine are pictured in the initial letters. 
Evelyn's diary records " a statue of Coilus, 
in wood," then existing, and Colchester Castle 
was from ancient times known as Colking's 
Palace. If you still doubt, go to the Herald's 
College and ask to see the arms of Coel Gode- 
bog; but you have them in a modified form in 
the present arms of Colchester — Coel's Camp. 
Tradition assumes that he was buried at Not- 
tingham, which town was founded by another 
son of Helena. The arms of Nottingham are 
almost identical with those of Colchester. The 
three crowns are said to represent the three 
Wise Men whose heads were found by Helena 
and taken to Cologne. They are still there; 
so we were requested to believe on the occasion 
when we viewed the bones of St. Ursula and 
her eleven thousand virgins. Manifestly 
Coel's arms were not devised until after He- 
lena disinterred the Wise Men. 



252 Ways and Days Out of London 

Colchester was called by the Romans Ca- 
mulodunum, but its existence had begun long 
before Csesar helped himself to this morsel of 
the map of Europe, although Csesar declares 
that what the Britons called a town was merely 
a clearing in the forest defended by earthworks 
or a river. 

British princes, like many others, did not 
always dwell together in love. One Caswallon 
had killed his royal brother so as to obtain for 
himself a throne. The brother's son, Man- 
dubratius, displayed some natural resentment 
thereat, and having heard that the Great Ro- 
man was coming over from France, he sent 
messages to Csesar imploring him to pitch into 
— or words to that effect — Caswallon. Csesar, 
being an assiduous seeker after trouble, found 
here what he most desired. Caswallon's army 
of untrained Britons was mowed down with 
ease, whereby any further resistance from the 
regicide was quashed. His life had been 
spared; and taking an I. O. U., payable an- 
nually in gold from the citizens of Camulo- 
dunum, for value received, Csesar returned to 
Rome, and JNIandubratius was permitted to 
govern his father's subjects. A nephew of his 
became famous when Shakspeare called him 
Cymbeline. 

When Claudius ruled over Rome's domains 



Colchester 253 

and traveled to Albion, a temple was built 
where the castle now stands and a statue was 
erected to Victory. Camulodunum became a 
Roman city with Senate House and a theater. 
What little of it the Danes and Saxons may 
have left standing was demolished by the Nor- 
mans, and all we have of Roman Camulodu- 
num are some articles in a museum, a wall, 
and some splendid specimens of Norman her- 
ringbone masonry, for which Roman bricks 
from the Temple of Claudius were used. 

An earlier demolition occurred, however, 
when Boadicea came with her vengeance-im- 
pelled army and devastated the city in the 
year 61 a.d. The present Roman wall was 
not built until after this. The Romans, for 
once, had been caught napping. After the 
majority of the townspeople had been slaugh- 
tered and their houses burned, the few who re- 
mained erected this fortification of flint and 
brick cemented with that wonderful pink mor- 
tar they knew so well how to make, and rebuilt 
their town. 

We reached Colchester about noon. There 
was but one cab at the station. We requested 
the driver to show us the castle, St. Botolph's 
Priory, King Cole's Kitchen, and Scheregate 
Steps. Save for the castle, his expression was 
as blank as though we had commanded him to 



254 Ways and Days Out of London 

drive us to the Eiffel Tower or the Pyramids 
of Ghizeh. 

" Take us to a shop where we can buy a 
map," said Diana the determined. 

"It is Early Closing Day," he demurred; 
" the shops is all closed." 

" That means no arms china — no photo- 
graphs," lamented Sonia. 

"Hurry, please!" Diana commanded; 
" there may be something open." They 
were all closed, however, and the town had 
a Sabbath-day appearance. An ignorant 
driver and a town deserted! This was dis- 
heartening. 

" Stop here ! " shouted Diana, who was on 
the pavement before the wheels were still. 
Shutters were about to be put up on the win- 
dows of the Essex County Standard. She 
had spied the open door. Happily the pro- 
prietor was present. He was most sympa- 
thetic, furnished us with guide books in plenty 
— of his own compilation — and instructed the 
driver where to take us. 

"That was lucky!" gasped Sonia, wide- 
eyed. 

The wall was our first quest. A portion of 
it we had seen while driving up from the sta- 
tion, its crude massiveness richly mantled with 
trailing vines and overhanging branches. 




tn. 



Delightfully incongruous teas a motor wagon at tJie base 
of "King Cole's Castle r 



Colchester 255 

Originally there were four gates in the wall. 
One remains — the Balkon Gate. 

Among St. Helena's achievements was be- 
lieved to be the finding in the Holy Land of 
the Cross on which the Saviour died. For 
this reason the town consisted of two principal 
streets crossing at the center, typical of the 
Cross, which also shows on the borough's coat 
of arms. 

Sonia is logical. " How do they reconcile 
that story with the fact that Constantius, He- 
lena's son, was not born until nearly 300 a.d. 
and the streets of Camulodunum were laid 
out during the reign of Claudius, more than a 
hundred years earlier? " 

"But me no huts," Diana responded; "let 
us beheve all the pretty stories, however thin 
they may be." 

In another part of the wall is a bastion that 
has become known as King Cole's Castle. 
Delightfully incongruous was a motor w^agon 
at its base. 

We paused to look at the old tower of St. 
Mary's-at- the- Walls. The foundations of the 
church are a part of the wall; and the tower 
is chiefly constructed of Roman materials. Its 
top still shows where Thompson — the one-eyed 
gunner who was so loyal to the crown during 
that bitter seventy-six days' siege of Colches- 



256 Ways and Days Out of London 

ter by the " Protector," — placed a saker, and 
therewith killed many of the besiegers. Fair- 
fax, however, who led the attack — and won at 
last — succeeded in demolishing the belfry and 
down came crashing poor, brave Thompson 
and his gun, together with the mad clangor 
of the falling bells. 

The castle is declared to be the largest Nor- 
man keep in England. 

" I observe," said Diana, " that everything 
we have seen is superlatively — something. 
This, though, is tremendous ! " as we came sud- 
denly upon the castle from Balkerne Lane 
and through a part of the Castle Park. 

The castle's custodian was a man of intelli- 
gence far above that of the usual taker of toll. 
He showed us holes where the fastenings of the 
portcullis had been, the great chimney vents 
in the thick walls, and ever so many other in- 
teresting details. The dungeons were superla- 
tive enough. We descended, each bearing tal- 
low dips — as in the Catacombs — into the cold 
subterranean chasms which seemed to have no 
end. Sonia, whose imagination is so vivid at 
times as to intimidate, clung to Diana's arm, 
and would have been content to forbear ex- 
ploring these grewsome chambers which reeked 
of death and horror. Some torture devices still 
remained to show that such things were no 



Colchester 257 

fiction. She almost shrieked when she stum- 
bled against a clanking chain that threw her 
against a moldy wall, where hung rings which 
had held the fetters of many a prisoner. Here 
Sir Charles Lucas and Sir George Lisle, those 
loyal royalists, were confined before their exe- 
cution. Here also dozens of Protestants were 
thrown by Queen Mary's command ere she 
caused them to be put to death in the Castle 
Bailey, forgetful of the loyalty of Colchester 
to her cause in opposition to that of Lady Jane 
Grey. How heavenly sweet to regain the sun- 
shine ! 

" The staircase is superlative, too," whis- 
pered Sonia, when the custodian had told us 
this was " the widest newel staircase in Eng- 
land." 

From the ramparts of the castle we looked 
far away in all directions after we had rhapso- 
dized upon the myriads of harebells abloom in 
the chinks of the stonework and ivy outlining 
the arches of the inner walls. In the square 
turret at the corner which we were approach- 
ing, James Parnell, a Quaker lad of eighteen, 
who had preached his gospel of peace, was 
imprisoned by the Protector and hurried to 
death by the cruelty of his jailers. In order 
to obtain food he must slide down a rope and 
then climb down a too-short ladder into the 



258 Ways and Days Out of London 

Quadrangle. Once he fell, struck his head, 
and was nearly killed. Then he was thrown 
into the dungeon, and again, when almost sti- 
fled by its foul air, he was shut out in the cold 
of a winter night. After eleven months he 
was folded in the long sleep he so desired. 

On the ramparts, near the round turret, 
which is rather modern, a well-rooted tree is 
called the Waterloo Tree because it was plant- 
ed in the deeply accumulated moss there in 
the year 1815. 

Colchester Castle also had its Walker Wel- 
don, under the name of John Wheely; and 
in 1683 he bought the castle, intending to 
dilapidate it and profit by its sale to " local 
paviors " and such. Gunpowder and crowbar 
did more to deface it than time or siege; but 
he grew weary of the task, contemplatively 
scratched his furry pate, and — decided to 
sell the material in its present unremunera- 
tive bulk. Fortunately its present owners 
have some respect for the past glory of 
England. 

A part of the castle, once the chapel, is now 
used as a museum for the rich collection of 
Roman and other relics that have been ex- 
humed in and near Colchester. 

" How does it happen," pondered Sonia, 
^' that so many Roman coins have been found? 



Colchester 259 

Of course, the Romans intended to return; 
but why did they leave so much money? " 

" I have it! " exclaimed Diana. " The coins 
were legal tender only in Britain; what more 
simple, therefore, than to bury chests full in 
safety and readiness for their return. They 
were experienced in burying things. All these 
vases, jewelry, lamps, and beautiful crema- 
tory glass vials were exhumed from tombs. 
And here is proof of what I inferred. ' Part 
of a hoard of 16,000 early English coins found 
in 1902.' " 

Some terra-cotta figurines bore strong re- 
semblance to those graceful ones of Tanagra. 
We were interested in a specimen of the 
" bays," for which Colchester was once fa- 
mous. When religious persecution was ram- 
pant even in Holland, and Diana's ancestors 
were preparing to sail for New Amsterdam, 
many Dutch Protestants crossed the North 
Sea and settled in seaside counties. To Col- 
chester they were welcomed; and a company 
was formed for the establishing of commerce 
and manufacture. A certain woolen stuff 
called " bays " and a coarser grade — " says " 
— were manufactured extensively. It is esti- 
mated that at one time a weekly income of 
thirty thousand pounds resulted therefrom. 
The bays and says merchants, as well as the 



260 Ways and Days Out of London 

native townsmen, bore the stress of the Crom- 
welhan siege; but the famous company was 
not disrupted until 1728. 

From the museum windows we caught the 
best view we had of the herringbone masonry. 

King John is said to have frequently visited 
Colchester Castle. 

" I wonder," mused Sonia; " if old Lackland 
paid as bountifully for his entertainment here 
as at St. Edmundsbury, where, after remain- 
ing with his retinue for a fortnight, he pre- 
sented the abbot with thirteen pence." 

There are not many old houses of interest 
in the town; but our driver indicated a " black- 
and-white " one that had been standing since 
before the siege of Colchester. Some others 
lean o'er the footworn Scheregate Steps 
which lead from the end of Abbeygate Street 
to Trinity Street. Trinity Church has an in- 
teresting Saxon doorway. 

While Savonarola was leavening the lump 
that Italy had become, and Columbus was 
seeking the Indies by a western route, the 
same psychic stimulus was astir in this north- 
ern isle. After the triumphant return from 
San Salvador, when people were credulous 
and none doubted Christopher's discovery, his 
brother came with the news to Henry VII, 
who lost no time in putting his finger into so 



Colchester 261 

savory a pie. So, too, came the tidings of 
brave men who were striving to amend the 
evils that a thousand idle years had wrought 
in the church; and seeds were sown of that 
Reformation which swept England of the 
plague which infested her too-long neglected 
monastic bja-es. Not all the monasteries were 
corrupt; and even in the worst of them were 
many good and pious monks. Wolsey's suc- 
cessor in King Hal's confidence — Thomas 
Cromwell — influenced, no doubt, by his prede- 
cessor's impression upon the wax of history, 
determined to cut still deeper. He was astute 
enough to recognize Opportunity's knock. 
Knowing that corruption smirched some of 
the religious houses, his inflexible will became 
concentrated upon a single purpose — the de- 
struction of all monastic institutions. He em- 
ployed his favorite method that permitted no 
defense to the accused, and proceeded to wipe 
the slate. 

Two institutions at Colchester were thus 
effaced. The Priory of St. Botolph is so pic- 
turesque a ruin that we could not greatly 
deplore its demolition. All that now stands 
is a part of the priory church. The institution 
is said to have been the first in England of 
the Augustinian friars. It was founded in the 
twelfth century by Ernulph, himself a monk 



2()2 Ways and Days Out of London 

and its first prior. This ruin we had not seen 
but for the courtesy of a gardener who un- 
locked the gate and afforded us the freedom 
of the pretty garden about the ruins. The 
Norman fa9ade we admired to our hearts' 
content. 

When England's throne was occupied by 
William the Red, true son of his incendiary 
father, the people of Colchester " made up to " 
his steward Eudo, hoping for royal favor to 
their town. The king appointed Eudo to the 
management of Colchester; and, strangely 
enough, the steward more than justified his 
reputation for justice and generosity. He re- 
paired the castle, and, being religiously bent, 
determined to found an abbey. On St. John's 
Green was a little wooden church of Saxon 
origin, where miracles were said to have fre- 
quently occurred. One, especially, on a St. 
John's Day was conferred upon a poor man 
whose hands had ])een chained together for 
some misdemeanor, and was praying in the 
church when the chain broke and the man was 
freed. Wherefore Eudo decided to build his 
abbey on the site of the little church and call 
it after St. John, on whose day the miracle 
had occurred. This was in 1096. At Eudo's 
request the Bishop of Rochester sent two 
monks to establish the abbey; but they did 



Colchester 5J63 

not care for the plain living supplied by Eudo 
and ran away home, like truant schoolboys. 
Others came, but finding no luxuries, left. 
Eudo had spent a great deal of money on his 
beautiful abbey, and innocently supposed that 
monks were devotees of the simple life. Final- 
ly, Abbot Stephen, of York, sent him a baker's 
dozen who stayed. Eudo also built a hospital 
for lepers who had returned from the crusades 
covered with doubtful glory and certain dis- 
ease. He died at his castle in Normandy; but 
to the Abbey of St. John he left money and 
land, also his topaz ring and a gold cup — aye, 
and his horse and mule. 

Cromwell permitted the beautiful gate of 
St. John's Abbey to stand. Perhaps it is 
enough. Other of the buildings might retain 
unsavory associations like the hideous Abbey 
Church of St. Albans, whose stain time can- 
not erase while its walls stand. 

Those gentle ladies, Jane and Ann Taylor, 
who wrote " My Mother " and " Twinkle, 
Twinkle, Little Star," were residents of Col- 
chester. 

In St. Giles's Church is a black marble slab 
covering the vault that contains the bodies of 
Sir George Lisle and Sir Charles Lucas. 

Under this marble ly the Bodies of the two most 
valiant Captains, Sir Charles Lucas and Sir George 



264 Ways and Days Out of JLondon 

Lisle, Knights, who for their eminent Loyalty to 
their Soverain were on the 18th of August, 164f8, by 
command of Sir Thomas Fairfax, the General of the 
Parliamentary Army in cold bloud barbarously mur- 
dered. 

It is said that the Duke of Buckingham, 
smarting at this reflection on his father-in- 
law's character, asked the restored king to 
have it erased. Lord Lucas, to whom the 
king spoke, gave his consent on condition that 
substituted therefor be the statement that: 

Sir Charles Lucas and Sir George Lisle were bar- 
barously murdered for their loyalty to King Charles 
I. and his son, King Charles II. has ordered this 
memorial for their loyalty to be erased. 

The depth of the present inscription is due 
to the king's subsequent command that it be 
cut deeper into the marble. 

We drove out to Lexden to see King Cole's 
Kitchen, which is merely a hole in the ground, 
but may have been an amphitheatre or possibly 
a British dugout of some sort. It is wholly 
unprepossessing at present. 

Our stupid driver did not chance to take us 
to Bourne Ponds, of which we had no previous 
information; so we did not see the "pictur- 
esque mill, built up with stonework from the 
Abbey of St. John." The brothers fished here 



Colchester 265 

before the Colchester oysters became known; 
and still osiers grow thickly at the ponds' 
edges. 

The Hythe — in Saxon, harbor — really a 
sort of firth, is the port of Colchester, which is 
distant about eight miles from the sea. One 
of the Cinque Ports bears the same name ; but 
this is not unusual in England. There is a 
river Colne that flows into the Thames; and 
here is another Colne that is " no relation." 

"How delightfully Dutch!" exclaimed 
Diana at the line of gayly painted fishing 
boats in the hythe. " No wonder the bays and 
says merchants felt at home here." 

For the past two hundred years Colchester 
has had no history. Happy town! We left 
it regretfully despite its inhospitable reception 
to us ; for it had given us one of our summer's 
happiest days. 




CHAPTER XV 



By River to Hampton Court 

WHETHER the ancient wooden Lon- 
don Bridge was as long in " falling 
down " as the fame thereof we do not know ; 
but the present solid structure, traversed daily 
by thousands of vehicles and pedestrians in 
greater number, seems in no danger of imme- 
diate collapse. The first London Bridge of 
stone was thirty-three years in course of con- 
struction, and doubtless a marvel of engineer- 
ing in those days as the present bridge is in 
these. Its completion was celebrated six years 
before Magna Charta. The last remains of 
the splendid structure that Chaplain Peter of 
St. Mary Cole's had constructed at the com- 
mand of Henry II were removed about sev- 
enty-five years ago. As we stood on the float 
at the foot of the great highway, whose dull 
roar mingled with the lapping of water against 

266 



By River to Hampton Court 267 

the landing stage, we tried to recall that bridge 
of Chaplain Peter. This was not difficult; for 
some old prints in a bookseller's window had 
shown us the two rows of houses bordering the 
thoroughfare, their ragged roof lines and solid 
bases — beneath which flowed England's aorta 
— sharply contrasting. We had seen thus the 
traitors' gates guarded by bastions, at each end 
of the bridge; and of course we had also seen 
the chapel to St. Thomas of Canterbury, who 
was quite the rage when Henry commissioned 
Peter to build the bridge. 

The sensible way to have " taken " a steamer 
for Hampton Court had been to go down to 
the Chelsea landing, near our lodgings; but 
when we learned that London Bridge was the 
little steamer's starting place, we prodigally 
spent an hour and fourpence on a bus through 
Piccadilly and the " city " because of this op- 
portunity to see both the bridge and London 
from a new point of view. 

A few fishing boats still lingered about Bill- 
ingsgate as we looked for the steamer's ap- 
proach and beheld it gently gliding toward 
us. 

Who has not seen London from the Thames 
knows not the half of London's charm. It is 
like discovering new and unsuspected beauties 
in the character of a beloved friend. To him 



268 IV ays and Days Out of London 

who is blind to the magic effects made by fac- 
tory walls, lumber piles, or dirty brown schoon- 
ers under whose torn sails bricks are piled, by 
the reflection of such lines and color in the 
turgid water — this river glimpse of London 
gives no pleasure. Memories of Turner and 
Whistler obsessed us, who were happily able to 
idealize the commonplace. 

The crescent that curves from Blackfriars 
to Westminster seemed familiar yet strange. 
Cabs tinkling or tootling along the Embank- 
ment, the Temple buildings amid their gar- 
dens, the great hotels, Somerset House; all 
were known to us from other points of view. 
Big Ben chiming the quarter hour, the lace- 
like loveliness of Westminster Palace, intensi- 
fied the feeling as did the Tate Gallery, where 
we had recently looked out from the balcony 
above its entrance, on the river. 

" The marvel of marvels in London," said 
Diana; " is the multitude and magnitude of its 
parks. Perhaps a trace of the old Norman love 
of forests still exists in that ponderous body — 
the Corporation." 

The Albert Embankment, on the Surrey side 
of the river, begins at Westminster Bridge and 
with slight interruption there is a tree-bordered 
path or driveway for several miles. On the city 
side the Grosvenor Road and Chelsea Em- 



By River to Hampton Court 269 

bankment extend even farther, a selvedge of 
green along the shores. 

Back of the trees lining and interlining 
Cheyne Walk we descried Whistler's house; 
and while waiting for the few Chelsea passen- 
gers to come aboard had opportunity to note 
the extent of Battersea Park on the Surrey 
shore and to register a vow of exploration 
therein. 

Another crescent merges Chelsea into Ful- 
ham and Battersea into Wandsworth. Magic 
names all; and we are still in London. Yet 
the palace of the bishops of London, with its 
battlemented roof and corner turrets, secure 
yet unclerically formidable within its moat and 
amidst its splendid trees, might be many miles 
from the roar of Bays water Road. At the 
upper end of Fulham giant plane trees on the 
Hurlingham Club grounds follow the curving 
river bank. 

Wandsworth's present fame is derived from 
a large prison; but in its Huguenot cemetery 
sleep some of Diana's forbears — so she averred. 

" That great stone bridge must be Putney 
Bridge," said Sonia before we were near 
enough to descry the letter P doubly carved — 
dos-d-dos — on the escutcheons which decorated 
the huge piers that might defy the swift Rhone 
as effectually as the tranquil-flowing Thames. 



270 Ways and Days Out of London 

" Surely those boats over there do not im- 
agine they can get their tall masts under such 
low arches! " 

"Not until the tide comes in are they likely 
to attempt such a seeming impossibility," said 
Diana, referring to their present high-and-dry- 
ness. " Perhaps they have a way of lowering 
their masts like some of the steamers their 
smoke-stacks ; but methinks we must to our his- 
tory lesson. 

" For what two reasons is Putney especially 
famed? You do not know, I see. I do, for I 
crammed it last night when you were writing 
to Billy. First of all is Putney famous to re- 
gattors — I wonder why they did not name it 
Puntey? — because an annual championship 
boat race between Cambridge and Oxford be- 
gins here and ends at Mortlake. You recall 
our dear Charley Ravenshoe rowing on such 
an occasion? Secondly, history lovers like you 
should know that Putney's fame is linked with 
a blacksmith's son, one Thomas Cromwell, 
traces of whose ministerial zeal we have oft 
encountered." 

Between Putney and Barnes lie the beauti- 
ful grounds of another of London's country 
clubs, Ranelagh, for which " vouchers " had 
been promised us. At Hammersmith a glance 
at the map betrays the startUng nearness of 



By River to Hampton Court 271 

Kensington. Here, however, are rows and 
rows of new brick houses and young trees so 
typical of suburban London, whose attempt at 
dooryard gardens and shaded pavements is an 
almost ^^athetic protest of the Briton's eter- 
nal love of home and outdoors. 

Chiswick House, built by the Earl of Burl- 
ington, is as pretentious as these others are un- 
obtrusive. It is a transplanted Italian villa 
and looks ill at ease on the banks of the 
Thames. 

At last the town was being outstripped. 
Pleasure-boat houses, swans paddling beyond 
the current, bridges terminating in green rus- 
ticity proclaimed that we we were emerging 
into the peace of England from the unrest of 
the metropolis of the world. A group of pop- 
lars dominating a foreland seemed to have come 
suddenly forward to welcome us in the name 
of England and the Stream of Pleasure. 

" Surely," said Diana, " if I were a suburb- 
anite, I should live at Strand-on-the-Green. 
What could be more delightful than one of 
these comfortable homes from whose windows 
I could gaze upon this adorable river? More- 
over, Strand-on-the-Green would look so much 
nicer on my note paper than Upper Tooting 
or Ha7n Common." 

" I believe," mused Sonia, " that Ham Com- 



272 Ways and Days Out of London 

mon appeals to me from another standpoint; 
perhaps it pays dividends." 

" And may not this be also true of Strand- 
on- the-Green preferred? " 

Kew's riverside garden loses none of its 
charm as seen from the river. The curving 
short at Brentford is also outlined by a road- 
way; and cattle browsing under tall elms be- 
stir the low tone of restfulness that is the leit- 
motiv of the Thames. Between Brentford and 
Isleworth still stands Sion House, for which 
Kew's Syon Vista is named. Katherine How- 
ard, one of the royal sextette, was imprisoned 
here after the religious foundation had been 
disrupted and the property seized by the 
crown. When King Hal's great corpse was 
borne to Windsor seven years later, it lay here 
for a night and a horrible tale was told of its 
bursting and of dogs drinking the blood that 
flowed from it. Edward VI granted Sion 
House to the Duke of Somerset, who erected 
the present dwelling on the monastery's site. 
On his disgraceful attainder it was acquired by 
the Duke of Northumberland, who was des- 
tined to lose it because of loyalty to his daugh- 
ter-in-law. Lady Jane Grey. A later duke of 
^ this house regained the property, and Sion 
House remains in the Northumberland posses- 
sion. 



A 




o 



5~ 



o 






o 

55. 



o 



By River to Hampton Court 273 

" And to this day," mused Diana, " in that 
far away Sion Abbey at Lisbon its recluses — 
Enghsh women — still dream of returning to 
their former lands at Isle worth and recon- 
structing the abbey, whose original keys they 
carefully treasure." 

At Isleworth is the first of the locks that 
control this gentle stream. 

" Are we turning the pages of an illustrated 
story book, or is this a Parsifal-like scene un- 
rolling before us? Will you please pinch me, 
to see if I am awake? " said Sonia, " these dear 
little homes seem unreal. They are too tidy, 
too precise for humdrum human habitations. 
A heavy rain might wash the color out of the 
painted gardens, which are too bright to be 
real, and unglue the paper roofs. They ought 
to be in a toyshop." 

We passed a group of red-sailed boats in 
tow. 

" Evidently," said Sonia, " they can pass 
under the bridges." 

The wound of our Henley experience was 
tender, and when a woman began to strum on 
a diminutive piano on the deck near us we fled 
as far as we could. The thin wail of a " fiddle " 
and the plaintive quavering of a flute increased 
our apprehension. 

" Let's go down and have luncheon ! " we 



274 Ways and Days Out of London 

said, fearfully listening for the coming of 
" Poppies " or " Violets." 

How few traces one encounters along the 
Thames of the bitter battles, the carnage, and 
the incendiarism that have scarred the fair face 
of England in a thousand places and stained 
her sod for thousands of years. 

" Perhaps," murmured Sonia, over the in- 
evitable chicken and ham, " perhaps even the 
savage hearts of Danes and Romans were 
softened by the river's reposeful spirit. Per- 
haps they paused amid the iris on her shores 
to send up prayers to their gods and to cool 
their hot blood in the tranquil stream. Until 
the abbeys' destruction I can recall no violent 
deeds beside the Thames." 

" Save Magna Charta," said Diana, serving 
the salad; " and it is pleasanter to know that 
such chapters as Ferdinand and Miranda, such 
books as ' Ravenshoe ' and ' The Wind in the 
Willows ' made the Thames known to us be- 
fore we saw it." She unfolded a map. " It 
is two o'clock, and we are about six miles from 
Hyde Park Corner, as the bee measures dis~ 
tance. I think I remember that when we went 
to Hampton Court before, I heard a declara- 
tion in strong language that we should go more 
rapidly on another occasion." 

" True, but to-day we shall be there earlier 



By River to Hampton Court 275 

than the time of starting from Earls' Court 
Road on the former occasion; whereby you 
perceive that we are actually all these hours to 
the good, despite the desultory pace of up- 
stream steamers. Hurry with that cheese! 
We are coming to Richmond, I think." 

High above the river, like some dominating 
Schloss, the Star and Garter towers beyond 
Petersham Meadows. Below it, also overlook- 
ing the meadows and river is a vine-wrapped 
house, where lived the beautiful Georgiana, 
Duchess of Devonshire. 

" Is not she the one whom your Bartolozzi 
portrays in the act of chastising her baby?" 
Diana asked. 

If saints were easily made in the days of 
William of Perth and the Marathonic Am- 
phibalus, when the calendar contained as many 
empty spaces as the dance card of a wall flower, 
certainly earls and dukes were easily " cre- 
ated " at all times — even to our own day — when 
tea merchants and actors are knighted. Diana 
read: 

" ' The whipping boy to Charles I was made 
Earl of Dysart and given the Manor of Ham ' ; 
likewise a prayer book. Behold Ham House 
on your left " 

" He whipped the folk so carefully. 
That now he is a member of nobility;''* 



276 Ways and Days Out of London 

hummed Sonia to Sullivan's air. " Was not 
Ham House the meeting place of the famous 
Cabal? Oh, yes! and her Grace of Lauder- 
dale, who was William Murray's — the whip- 
ping-boy earl's — only daughter and heir, per- 
mitted the eventful assembly." 

Here, too, James II, on his way to a cooler 
climate, was invited to stop. So great was his 
haste, however, to escape in possession of his 
head that he declined, and posted on to Roch- 
ester, where a few loyal fellows packed him 
off on a packet for France. 

Twickenham's oft-sung ferry is not doing 
a phenomenal or even romantic business in 
these days, if we may correctly conclude from 
appearances. 

" There's the wherry," said Sonia, " but I 
misdoubt the oarsman is indulging in a pint 
stoup at the Clarence." 

" How fortunate that nobody has made a 
ballad about Eel Pie Island! " exclaimed Di- 
ana. " Thompson was capable of it, if we may 
judge from his extremely blank verse anent 
the ' classic groves of Hammersmith.' Orleans 
House — that must be it — seems to be going to 
the dogs, or the auctioneer. So this was where 
fat Philippe came with the posting boy, whose 
boots are at Esher ! It looks like the harbor of 
a forlorn hope." 




«0 



00 

r-O 
' — .1 

s 

O 



o 

O 

S 



554 









By River to Hampton Court 277 

We passed the home of Horace Walpole 
and of his splendid art collection — Strawberry 
Hill — wishing we might have seen its treas- 
ures. Kingston's river front is not specially 
prepossessing; but its bridge is. And so also 
is Hampton Wick, opposite Kingston, with 
shaded footpath, flowers, and pretty homes. 

" I like the cobbler of Hampton Wick," said 
Diana, " who had spirit enough to exhaust his 
slender fortune by fighting for and winning 
in the courts a right of way for the people 
through Bushey Park when stingy royalty 
withheld it by inclosing the park with fence." 

The Fox-and-Hounds at Surbiton, where the 
Reliance had changed horses on its way to 
Guildford, we recognized as a pleasant ac- 
quaintance. 

Of another inn, the Swan, at Thames Ditton, 
Theodore Hook wrote in 1834: 

"The Swan, snug Inn, good fare affords 
As table e'er was put on." 

There was no landing stage at Hampton 
Court ; when the steamer stopped, a longshore- 
man placed a plank for us to alight and saw 
to it that compensation was not neglected. 

"It seems years since we were here I" 
sighed Sonia. 



278 Ways and Days Out of London 

The gate at the "bottom" of the Broad 
Walk being closed we went through the town 
as far as the Trophy Gate. Parts of the palace 
are now bestowed as residence upon various 
governmental pensioners and hangers on. We 
entered the public galleries by way of the 
Queen's Great Staircase, from the Fountain 
Court. So little remains of Wolsey's Palace 
that we resigned ourselves to Hanoverian ob- 
session, and — palace interiors are very much 
alike. 

Among the myriad uninteresting pictures 
and the semi-interesting ones of doubtful au- 
thenticity are a few real treasures. Like rare 
shells on a beach strewn with cohogues, we wel- 
comed them. The Lely portraits to be appre- 
ciated should be seen before the Van Dycks, 
the Gainsboroughs, the Reynoldses, and the 
Lav/rences at Windsor. Afterwards they seem 
mawkish. 

" If George Villiers looked like this Janssen 
portrait," said Diana, " I do not wonder that 
women found him irresistible." 

" A disgusting face," Sonia contradicted, 
unable to admire what she cannot respect. 
Poor, pitiable James I and Elizabeth, gro- 
tesque in their superb royal robes ! We sighed 
because of all they never had. Little " Sir 
Jeffrey Hudson," by Mytens, is also pitiable; 



By River to Hampton Court 279 

but this pity is akin to love. Sonia was rap- 
turous before Correggio's lovely " St. Cath- 
erine Reading " and " Holy Family." An- 
other " Holy Family " of the elder Palma, its 
rich color dim with age, held us, especially be- 
cause of the beautiful face of the stooping 
woman beside St. John. 

Wolsey's " Closet " is one of the few links 
connecting Hampton Court Palace with its 
originator. We stood looking about its painted 
walls and out of its casement trying to think 
some of his thoughts. We spoke of his fatal 
mistake in out-glorying royalty. His retinue 
numbered eight hundred persons. His master 
cook wore velvet and a gold chain. Wolsey 
supposed the dignity of service lay in being 
served. 

To Wolsey's Palace was the court always in- 
vited for Christmas, and many called it the 
Christmas Palace. To picture Yuletide was- 
sail was easy in the sumptuous Great Hall, al- 
though this hall was not built until after Wol- 
sey's downfall. Hal at length became jealous 
of his prelate's power and stripped him of it; 
but the process of royal awakening was slow 
and Wolsey's glory was a world's wonder — 
even as Becket's had been. When the court 
was at Greenwich Wolsey's state barge came 
down in arrogant splendor, with " yeomen 



280 Ways and Days Out of London 

standing upon the sails " ; and the great king's 
beady eyes were dazzled thereby. Kings do not 
like to be dazzled ; they prefer to monopolize all 
the glory. So Henry's cold purpose began to 
be. The poets' skits, too, may like gadflies 
have stung him to revenge. Sang Skelton : 

" The kynges court 

Should have the excellence; 
But Hampton Court 

Hath the pre-eminence." 

Queen Mary, determined to marry Philip of 
Spain, succeeded ; and here passed their honey- 
moon. 

In Elizabeth's time came Shakspeare's play- 
ers and Burbage with masques and interludes 
at Yuletide. The honeymoon of Charles I 
and Henrietta Maria in London was inter- 
rupted by the plague ; and in Hampton Court 
they found refuge. Well for their brief hap- 
piness that they could not foresee the day six- 
teen years later when a more formidable foe 
drove him here again from Whitehall — also the 
day when he escaped his pursuers and fled from 
Hampton Court to the Isle of Wight — and 
again the day when he was borne hence to the 
block. 

Gentle Anne of Denmark, wife of James I, 



By River to Hampton Court 281 

died here. Perhaps her starved soul it is that 
haunts the Queen's Gallery. Or is it that of 
Jane Seymour, who died at Hampton Court 
soon after the birth of her son, Edward VI ? 

Thomas Cromwell, once Wolsey's secretary 
and afterwards his supplanter, dwelt here with 
Henry while the deposed prelate sorrowed, and, 
perhaps hoped, in exile. The other Cromwell, 
who liked his title of " Protector," but who 
protected neither wisely nor well, arrogantly 
assumed a sort of royal residence at Hampton 
Court, ever glancing over his shoulder for an 
expected assassin. Conquered by ignoble fear, 
the Protector had no joy of the pomp to which 
he was not born. His daughter Elizabeth's 
wedding to Lord Falconer occurred here ; and 
a year later Mrs. Claypole, his " favorite " 
daughter, died at Hampton Court, daring on 
her death bed to denounce her father and tell 
him some trenchant truths about himself. 

The Restoration saw a king here again and 
resumption of ceremonial. The splendid gar- 
dens we owe to William III. He it was also 
who commissioned Sir Christopher Wren to 
erect the south and east portions of the vast 
palace. 

The fine old clock court and the indoor ten- 
nis court — the oldest tennis court in England 
— are of Wolsey's day. So are some of the 



282 Ways and Days Out of London 

tapestries that line the great hall, though many 
of these are of Henry the Usurper's choosing. 

The grapevine, carefully guarded in its glass 
house, we were permitted to see. We had been 
more impressed with the story of its fecundity 
had this been the bearing season. 

The sunken pond garden we found by 
chance, having followed the south side of the 
palace for a better view of the round, lozenged 
chimneys of Italian design, which we had per- 
ceived from the privy garden. The pond gar- 
den's gate was closed; but we peeped happily 
through the shrubbery within its wall, which on 
this side is low, and enjoyed the formal box- 
bound beds and the white Medici Venus at its 
far end. 

Stately are the long avenues in the Home 
Park and the broad ones in Bushey Park. The 
fame of Horse-chestnut Sunday is merited, for 
the trees are superb. We passed again through 
the Trophy Gate, crossed the Thames, and had 
a much-needed tea on a hotel balcony that over- 
looked the river. 

Reinvigorated, we indulged in the customary 
search for usable pieces of arms china, ere our 
return to the palace, where a pleasant bobby 
showed some quiet old courts, the Fish Court 
and Carpenter's Court, rarely seen, he astutely 
informed us, by visitors. 




Stately are the avenues. 



By River to Hampton Court 283 

An attempt was made to see more of the 
Home Park, but was forborne, when we had 
attained the end of the long canal, baffled by 
the flight of golden hours and the park's im- 
mensity. We sought the pleasant bobby after 
a last worshipful look at the brilliant flower 
borders and a last whiff of the tall heliotropes, 
and learned from him that there is a railway 
station at Hampton Court and that a train 
for Waterloo was due in nine minutes. Feel- 
ing better acquainted with Hampton Court 
than after our previous visit, we sat down, 
freshly garbed, before one of Mrs. Dodson's 
delectable dinners at the customary hour of 
" half after seven," both hungry, happy, and 
thoroughly content with another day out from 
London. 




CHAPTER XVI 

Greenstead 

ONCE upon a time, more than a thousand 
years ago, there Hved in the little city of 
Niirnberg a gentle hoy whose name was Ead- 
mund. Eadmund's father was a king; Alk- 
mund w^as his name. 

When Offa — the King of East Anglia, who 
had caused the death of a good, but to him dan- 
gerous man, and was endeavoring to expiate 
his sin by journeying to the Holy Land — 
passed through Niirnberg, he visited Alkmund 
and saw the little boy Eadmund, who was then 
thirteen years old. Offa had no son to be king 
of the East Anglians when death should take 
him from the throne. The gentle Eadmund 
pleased him, and was forthwith made his heir. 
Why Alkmund consented to this when the boy 
might in time have reigned over the Teutonic 

284 



Greenstead 285 

province, we do not know; but we hope it was 
not for a price. During the following year, 
while on his way back to England from Jeru- 
salem, Offa died at Port George, and the boy 
became monarch over a country he had never 
seen and of whose language he was ignorant. 
Had his claim been questioned Offa's ring, 
which had been given him, was sufficient guar- 
antee; but the peaceable little country on the 
western shore of the North Sea made no pro- 
test. 

Alkmund fitted out a right royal expedition 
for his son, who " sailed and landed in East 
Anglia where he made devout prayer to God, 
and not far from thence he built a royal 
tower called Hunstantone." Only the name 
remains of this " rising watering place, with 
good bathing, a pier, and a golf course," where 
Eadmund held his court once a year thereafter 
and then returned to reside at Athelbrough. 

Eadmund was a student and a dreamer; yet 
there must have been some glamour for the boy 
in becoming king in this marvelous land that 
all Europe desired to conquer and possess. On 
Christmas Day 855 he began to reign; but not 
until the following Christmas was he crowned 
and anointed King of East Anglia, being 
then but fifteen. He learned the Psalter in 
the Saxon tongue, " which book was preserved 



286 Ways and Days Out of London 

in the revestrie of the monastery at St. Ed- 
mundsbury till the church was suppressed in 
the reign of Henry VIII." 

Happy for the taxpayers is the reign that 
has no history! Of Eadmund's reign little is 
known save that he loved his people and served 
them unselfishly. Trouble came, however, but 
from without. 

The Danes descended in wolf like fury on 
peaceable Britain more frequently and fiercely. 
A tradition states that Ragnar Lodbrog, a 
Danish pirate who had achieved fame in his 
free, if not easy, calling, was driven on the Nor- 
folk coast in a storm. Pirates were presumably 
heroes to men in those days as they are to boys 
in these; for Ragnar Lodbrog was conducted 
to Eadmund's court and received as an hon- 
ored guest. While out hunting in the royal 
forest he was accidentally slain and his Danish 
compatriots, to whose ears the tidings sped like 
the wind across the sea, were but too ready to 
accuse the kindly Eadmund of the pirate's 
murder. 

Of the attack that followed there are several 
versions. One-states that the king was residing 
quietly at a village near Heglisdune — the Hill 
of Eagles — intent upon his studies and devo- 
tions and unmindful of defending his people 
against the oncoming wolves ; but that his earl, 



Greenstead 287 

Ulf Ketul, met the Danes at Thetford — ^then 
the seat of both king and bishops of East An- 
gha — and was defeated. 

Another narrative, that of Eadmund's 
sword bearer — who related it to Dunstan — 
would seem more probable. Eadmund, he 
said, fought in this battle at the head of his 
people and, horrified by the fearful carnage, he 
surrendered himself voluntarily to the enemy 
in hope of saving his subjects from further 
slaughter. The victorious Danish king sent to 
Eadmund a message requiring him to yield 
half of his treasure, renounce his religion and 
reign under him — the Danish invader, whose 
only right was might. Eadmund conferred 
with his bishops, who recommended compliance 
and urged him to escape. This gentle youth 
was no coward, and disdaining the priestly 
counsel he summoned the enemy's emissary, re- 
fused all the conditions imposed and defied the 
foe. He was seized, but offered no resistance. 

Naked, he was bound in chains and scourged. 
Then he was tied to a tree and whipped again. 
Like St. Sebastian he stood, silent, to be rid- 
dled with arrows. The tormentors, maddened 
by his incomprehensible calm, were not satis- 
fied when death came, but severed the head 
from the mutilated body and flung it in a ditch. 
Thus perished the last king of East Anglia. 



288 Ways and Days Out of London 

From Thetford the body was borne to the 
Hill of Eagles and buried in the earth under 
a wooden chapel. According to legend the 
head was found guarded, in the ditch, by a she- 
wolf. Could this have been a Danish woman 
whose heart had been stirred to love and pity? 
The she- wolf joined the procession that bore 
the head to be placed with the body. 

About a generation later people told of 
miracles that were performed by the body un- 
der the little church, the beloved and martyred 
king having become to his people a saint. A 
former king of East Anglia had built a church 
at Beodricsworth (Bury) , where the sacred re- 
mains were taken about this time and placed 
in a jeweled shrine. They were destined not to 
rest long there, however, for the Danes again 
poured into the land, led by the mighty Sweyn. 
The bishops, fearing outrage upon the precious 
relic, sent it to London, where it remained three 
years. The danger having passed, the jeweled 
shrine was borne back to Beodricsworth — now 
St. Edmundsbury. 

An ancient manuscript informs us that at 
Aungre a wooden chapel lodged the shrine en 
route, " which remains to this day." 

Until 1849 a tree stood in Hoxne — the 
Hill of Eagles — Park, which — overcome at last 
by the weight of its twelve hundred years — 




The lane dipped suddenly. 



Greenstead 289 

fell and was split up for firewood. In its trunk 
an arrowhead was found deeply embedded! 

Our bourne had been Epping Forest; but 
having breakfasted late and dawdled over a 
voluminous American mail we were tardy in 
setting forth upon the day's adventure. To 
him who is already late comes delay. We had 
been told to " change " at Mansion House for 
Bishopsgate, which is the nearest station on the 
Underground to Liverpool Street. Obedient- 
ly we alighted and more or less patiently we 
waited. Trains came and passengers hurried 
from them, but no train for Bishopsgate ar- 
rived. At length, when Diana had acidly an- 
nounced that we could not possibly catch the 
train for Epping, and reluctantly admitted that 
there was another a half hour later, a man 
among the hosts hastening from a train toward 
the " Way Out " glanced at us, hesitated, lifted 
his hat and held it while he begged our pardon, 
but were we waiting for the Bishopsgate train? 
They run at long intervals," he said. 
May I show you a surer and quicker way to 
go? It is but a short distance." We humbly 
followed him up to the street and preceded him 
into a bus. 

" You are from across the sea, I reckon — 
I mean, I guess! " he laughed, Sonia noticed 






290 Ways and Days Out of London 

that the big book he carried was entitled 
" American Banks and Banking." 

" I'm an American, too," he continued, prob- 
ably quite conscious that he bore all the John 
Bull points. " I was on a horse farm in Vir- 
ginia for ten years. Here's where you get off, 
ladies. Pray do not mention it ! The greatest 
pleasure." 

While we were waiting for luncheon in the 
station restaurant Sonia glanced over a guide 
book. 

" Oh! " she exclaimed; " let us go there in- 
stead. We could see it more quickly than the 
forest, and we haven't very much time, and 
the forest would be full of Saturday trippers 
and " 



<( 



What is the cause of this babbling? " Di- 
ana interrupted; "pray show me what you 
have been reading." In fine print were these 
words : 

Greenstead, one mile to the West of Ongar, has a 
remarkable wooden church, the walls of the nave be- 
ing formed of upright tree-trunks, said to date from 
Saxon times. 

We purchased two " third returns " for 
Chipping Ongar. There remained opportunity 
to watch the people rushing for suburban 



Greenstead 291 

trains. True, we had overlooked the facts that 
this was Saturday, and that all London leaves 
for an exurban week end. The third-class car- 
riages were thronged ; so were the second. The 
first were empty. Diana led the way into a 
first-class compartment and opened the win- 
dow preparatory to comfort. Sonia stood on 
the platform, wavering, her eyes big with pro- 
test. 

" Come in, my dear; and please close the 
door after you." Diana had long since recov- 
ered the equanimity lost at Mansion House 
station. 

" But we have third-class tickets! " Soma's 
conscience was bred of Plymouth Rock an- 
cestry. 

" It is too late to change them. 

Third, and the world rides with you, 
First, and you ride alone," 

paraphrased Diana. " I am going to Chip- 
ping Ongar in this nice blue compartment. If 
you prefer a brown one and the company of 
seven overheated city clerks, leave me, but don't 
look at me as though I were committing grand 
larceny. If the ticket collector wishes more of 
our pence he shall have them." Sonia entered. 
A guard slammed the door after her; a bell 



292 Ways and Days Out of London 

rang; the engine shrieked and we were off. 
When the ticket collector saw ours he said no 
word save: 

" Change at Stratford, if you please, ladies." 
Sonia would have inquired the sum of our debt 
to the railway, but he was gone ere she could 
utter a word. 

" Stratford! It is not possible — " she said 
instead. 

" No, that is Stratford-on-Avon. This is, I 
fancy, Stratford-atte-bow." 

At the many stations en route to Ongar, the 
city wagemen and holiday-going women and 
children, together with dozens of empty milk 
cans, were " set down," as the railway time bills 
would say. When we stepped on the platform 
at Ongar, the last station on the line, there was 
a jumping-off-place appearance about the 
quiet little station where neither cab nor porter 
waited. Toward the left a few buildings indi- 
cated the presence of an unobstrusive village. 
Elsewhere was naught but rusticity — just that 
wonderful remoteness from the metropolis that 
is so characteristic of the country the moment 
London's grasp is outreached! 

We asked an old man loitering near the sta- 
tion if he could direct us to Greenstead. He 
did so clearly, gazing at us the while in simple 
wonderment as to our errand. We came sud- 




'r 



These sturdy Saxon timbers that hare stood corner to corner 

for a thousand years. 



Greenstead 29S 

denly upon the lane, between rose-flecked 
hedges, which led to Greenstead. Some chil- 
dren were playing there. They paused and 
looked wonderingly at us with the villager's 
instinctive inquisitiveness regarding the unex- 
plained presence of strangers. We smiled at 
them and proceeded. Suddenly the lane dipped 
into rich pastures, and thenceforth it became a 
broad grassy path between magnificent trees 
which themselves might have stood since pre- 
Norman times. There being no necessity for 
haste we sauntered leisurely along this delight- 
ful mile, so as to lose no detail of its charm 
and also to permit full play to the feeling of 
detachment from London in whose heat and 
hurry we had been less than an hour ago. Be- 
fore reaching an imposing residence at the end 
of a long vista the path swerved to the left and 
skirted a hay field beyond which we spied the 
wooden tower of the tiny church at Green- 
stead. 

If the shelter that was erected for the protec- 
tion of Eadmund's sacred shrine were chosen 
for remoteness as well as peacefulness and 
beauty of environment, a fitter site could 
scarcely have been found. The square timbers 
might have been lately set in the wooden sill 
where corner to corner they have stood for a 
thousand years, so perfect is their condition. 



294 Ways and Days Out of London 

Thirty generations of men have come and gone 
within these walls and themselves made room 
for others. Perhaps the pious builders of the 
simple lodging for the relics of a simple-hearted 
saint had some prescience of the almost immor- 
tality that would be granted the timbers they 
hewed from the Forest of Essex. To us the 
dignity of this little church was more spiritual 
in its appeal than the carefully thought-out 
lines and exotic richness of emblematical deco- 
ration in the fairest Gothic minster could be. 
We thought of the royal-ecclesiastical march 
along the Roman road or British track, bar- 
baric in its splendor, yet simple in its grief for 
a slain king and its reverence for a martyred 
saint. We dwelt on the nights when lights 
burned within the tiny temple and watch fires 
flared on the spears of alert sentinels. At 
length Sonia said : 

" Perhaps we can go in." In the porch was 
a notice stating that the key could be obtained 
at the Farm Cottage. Across the road were 
two cottages. We rang the bell of the nearest 
and then knocked, to prove that we were no or- 
dinary folk; but none opened unto us. At the 
second an irate female iterated that the key 
was at the farm cottage. We humbly inquired 
where that might be and were grudgingly told. 

" All is not peace that's quiet," sighed Sonia. 



Greenstead 295 

" The key is larger than the situation! " ex- 
claimed the delighted Diana, swinging it gayly 
on its jingling chain and watching the glisten 
of its silvery polish wrought by age and use. 
When the bolt flew back with a clang at our 
command, all the thrills we had felt during our 
Walter Scott days came back with a rush. In- 
side, the little church is much like many mod- 
ern English churches and destroyed the spell 
which the timbers had wrought about our fancy. 
We locked the door again and withdrew the 
giant key from the portal; but Diana would 
not hear to its immediate return to the Farm 
Cottage. She played with it, coveted it, and 
imagined the wild joy of stealing it. Sonia 
suggested that she " take " a photograph of it, 
which would be the next best thing. And with 
this she was perforce content. 

We lingered to enjoy all the roses, from the 
creamy gloire-de-Dijons clinging to the east 
wall of the church to the tall trees freighted 
with damask or deep-red ones. The church- 
yard is small and not too full of graves. A 
few clustered yews add solemnity to its beau- 
tiful, fragrant peace. 

Reluctantly we yielded the key to the woman 
at the Farm Cottage, who ingloriously hung it 
on a nail inside the door, as though it were 
a beer mug. She was incapable of sharing our 



296 Ways and Days Out of London 

sentiment; but the touch of silver on her pahn 
brought lustre to her weary eyes. 

We walked back to Ongar by road, which 
we had occasion to regret, for we thereby 
lengthened the distance and trudged through 
dust and sun instead of idling along the grassy 
lane by which we had come. But Diana never 
likes to return the way she has come. 

We sought vainly the remains of Ongar's — 
once — Norman castle. No trace of it is vis- 
ible ; and its very site is problematical. Perhaps 
this was one of Henry II's eleven hundred. 

" Where have you globe trotters been to- 
day? " was asked of us at dinner that evening 
in Palace Gardens by our hostess. 

" To Chipping Ongar and Greenstead," re- 
plied Diana demurely. 

"I say, now! You are joking, really." 

" Indeed no." 

" I never heard of such a place. Did you. 
Sir Arthur? " 

" Tell us what you went for," said he. 

" We saw an old Saxon church and had one 
of the most entrancingly lovely walks imag- 
inable." 

"Ha! Ha! Ha! You Americans are so 
amusuig. Aren't there churches enough in 
London? " 




CHAPTER XVII 

Greenwich 

IS Greenwich far away? We really 
ought to go there and see whether white- 
bait on its native heath, or out of its native 
hatchery, is as much better than the usual sort 
as peas from your own garden or apples from 
somebody's else's." 

*' How odd that you should mention Green- 
wich! I was just going to ask you for the 
scissors so I could cut out an advertisement 
from the Telegraph of steamers that ply to 
Margate and stop at Greenwich on certain — 
what day is this? Wednesday? Let us hurry 
into our street things and we can catch the 
twelve o'clock boat." 

At the top of the steps to the landing stage 
we hesitated. A man leaning on the railing 
took from his mouth a well-colored pipe and 
asked if he could be of any assistance. 

297 



298 Ways and Days Out of London 

" Is this the landing for the Greenwich 
steamers? " He shook his head sadly, yet with 
a peculiar pitying expression on the front of it 
that regarded us as though we had been chil- 
dren requesting him to hand us the moon. 

" Ow, now! lydies; they eyen't no boats to 
Grinnidge." 

" They are advertised in the newspapers." 
*' Mye be. They ad em awn, but business 
was a bit dull and so they were tyken orf." 

Diana thanked him. " You need not tell me 
a steamer company in frugal England would 
pay to advertise boats that do not run — sail — 
steam," she said to Sonia. We went down the 
steps. A man in uniform stood on the hobbling 
landing. We put the question to him. He 
looked bland, then blank ; at length a gleam of 
almost human intelligence lit his eye. 
" Ow, you mean the 31 a?' gate steamer." 
" It stops at Greenwich; does it not? " 
" Yes, Miss ; but it is the Margate steamer. 
The time bills is chynged since last week. 
The next boat is at one o'clock." Big Ben was 
chiming twelve. We all but decided to forego 
Greenwich, and London whispered: 
" Stay here and do some shopping! " 
" There's a tram starts just across the bridge 
for Greenwich, if you don't wish to wait for the 
Margate steamer. You are American lydies, 



Greenwich 299 

I suppose? No, indeed! Miss, they are not 
all alike; but they've a wye about them, you 
know. Thank you, Miss! Good-dye, lydies." 

The tram starts from the bourne of all the 
busses we had not wanted on innumerable occa- 
sions — the Elephant and Castle Inn — which is 
a center for many tram lines as well as omni- 
buses. From a front seat on top of the car we 
observed that the newness and yet settled com- 
monplaceness of this part of London was un- 
like any other we had seen. We passed a bit 
of Kennington Park, in which Jerry Aver- 
shawe had once swung from a gallows tree. 
Via Camberwell Road we swung along Kent- 
wards. The young maples, the plenitude of 
baby carriages and rubber plants and a large 
new, Americanlike public school — a rare sight 
is any school but charity, church, or pay insti- 
tutions — all reminded us strongly of Brooklyn. 

" I feel as though we were on the way to 
Coney Island," Sonia remarked. " If the 
houses were of wood or brownstone instead of 
this dun brick I should be certain we were in 
the neighborhood of our respectable Kings 
County friends." 

" St. Giles, Camberwell — was not that one 
of Edward Alleyn's four parishes? " 

" Yes, my dear, and more than that. Cam- 
berwell is the birthplace of Robert Browning." 



300 Ways and Days Out of London 

" How poky this horrid tram is ! When I go 
anywhere in this way again I shall — not go at 
all!" Diana would seem to have a drop of 
Irish blood. "What is this? Peckham? It 
looks it. I am tempted to go below and take 
a nap until we get to Greenwich — if we ever 
do." 

" I trust sleep may restore your cheerfulness. 
I think this is an interesting ride — I mean as 
compared to that dreadful one to Hampton 
Court. I shall not tell you about the nice 
things we pass. Oh, what lovely baskets! " 

" * Made by the Blind ' "; Diana's interest 
revived. " I wish we could stop and get 
one." 

"What! delay arrival at Greenwich? We 
might lose half an hour waiting for the next 
car." 

At length, " Lo Grenewich, there many a 
shrew is in," and we descended at the unpre- 
tentious gate of Greenwich Park. 

The grass looked footworn and as weary as 
the mangy deer, whose ennui we longed to dis- 
pel with a bag of peanuts, a comestible they 
had never sniffed. This part of the park was 
full of boisterous children who scampered 
screaming among, but did not disturb the 
dozens of men who had flung themselves down 
in shaded places with the unpleasant abandon 



Greenwich 301 

we had not yet learned to look upon com- 
placently. 

" England's leisure class appears to be ap- 
pallingly large," muttered Sonia a little tim- 
orously as we hastened away. We found a 
path that led us to the brow of a hill from 
which, though haze-veiled distance was denied 
us, there was a wide view up and down the 
Thames. Beyond the forest of masts and 
Hampstead Hill, however, Sonia declared she 
saw Epping Forest. 

" In fine weather," said Diana from a newly- 
acquired fund of information, " Windsor is 
visible." And here Turner made the original 
sketch for one of his greatest canvases: " Lon- 
don from Greenwich." The sketch is preserved 
in the Liber Studiorum at the South Kensing- 
ton Museum. Here, too, the great doctor- 
etcher, Sir Seymour Haden, sketched the study 
for one of his finest plates : " The Break- 
ing-up of H. M. S. Agamemnon.'' 

" Have you noticed," asked Sonia, as we sat 
where so many famous and infamous people 
have paused to gaze and to ponder, " have you 
observed that every one of our trips out from 
London has been like a golden link in a chain 
whose end we have not yet attained ? Perhaps 
it has no end, but forms a magic circle of 
human history about " 



302 Ways and Days Out of London 

*' I see what you mean : sort of a non-skid- 
ding tire chain, London being the hub of the 
wheel and we mere inquisitive insects venturing 
out upon the spokes and discovering that they 
all lead to parts of the selfsame chain." 

" You have a deplorable habit of dragging 
me down from spiritual heights to your own 
level " 

" The vicinity of six feet from mother earth 
is high enough for you. But pray elucidate. 
Wherein is Greenwich constituted among your 
alleged golden links? " 

" You remember a play called ' Henry V,' 
written by a friend of Edward Alleyn and su- 
perbly performed by Richard Mansfield? Very 
good. You may also recall that while * Sweet 
Kate ' with her infant son awaited at Windsor 
the return of her lord who had carried off with 
him to France our friend James Stewart whose 
romance with Jane, daughter of the Earl of 
Somerset, was then in its incipiency — Henry 
lay dying at Vincennes and commanded his 
brother, Duke Humphrey of Gloucester, to 
become ' protector ' of the baby monarch? " 

" Your sentence is somewhat involved ; and 
I perceive therein reference to several links; 
but Greenwich appears not among them." 

" Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, was lord 
of these very acres on which we are now repos- 



Greenwich 303 

ing! He it was who built the palace of Pla- 
centia overlooking the Thames ; and on yonder 
lofty summit that looks like an overgrown toy- 
shop, but is presumably the Royal Observa- 
tory, stood his tower Mirefleur." 

" Oh, that must have been the Miraflores 
where Amadis of Gaul and his lovely Oriana 
had so many romantic adventures!" Diana, 
too, could rhapsodize upon occasion. 

The story of Duke Humphrey is picturesque 
enough to inspire a long tale. Still more dra- 
matic is that of the beautiful Jacqueline, 
Countess of Hainault and Holland, whom 
Humphrey first saw at Vincennes at the time 
of his brother's death. When fifteen years old 
she had been married to the Duke of Touraine, 
who became two years later Dauphin of 
France. A dose of Catherine's " medicine " 
thereupon removed him from the political per- 
spective; and after a brief widowhood seven- 
teen-year-old Jacqueline was married, for rea- 
sons of state, to the Duke of Brabant. This 
Flemish duke was not only a brute but a cow- 
ard — the two qualities are near akin — and after 
the young duchess had been forced to lead her 
armies against a foe from which her husband 
fled, having suffered meanwhile untold cruelty 
from him, she succeeded in obtaining permis- 
sion from the pope for a separation from Bra- 



304 Ways and Days Out of London 

bant. Duke Humphrey of Gloucester had 
been on more than friendly terms with Eleanor, 
daughter of the Kentish Duke, Cobham; but 
nevertheless he became enamored of Jacqueline 
and they were married. They came to Eng- 
land and enjoyed a brief period of happiness. 
In 1423 the Duke and Duchess of Glouces- 
ter became members of the lay fraternity of 
St. Alban's Abbey, whose abbot Whethamp- 
stead was a college chum of Humphrey at Ox- 
ford. The young couple spent a Christmas 
at the abbey, and contributed liberally to the 
coffers and vestment chests thereof. Another 
duke, he of Burgundy, who was a kinsman of 
Jacqueline, brought about further necessity for 
battle with her armies, and after two years in 
England she returned to Hainault to lead her 
people against the foe. Humphrey, true to his 
new titles of Count of Hainault, of Holland 
and of Flanders, and Lord of Friesland, ac- 
companied and aided her. Her forces met with 
defeat and when she would have returned to 
England, the people of ]Mons, her native town, 
besought her to remain there. She did so and 
Humphrey returned to England. She never 
saw him again, for the crafty Eleanor held out 
her seductive little finger, around which the 
susceptible duke was shortly " wound," in 
which position her strong will and insatiable 



Greenwich 305 

ambition held him long after her charm for him 
had passed. Burgundy's machinations had 
procured a papal decree pronouncing Jacque- 
line's divorce from Brabant invalid, and her 
marriage, therefore, with Duke Humphrey 
was annulled. Eleanor shortly became Duch- 
ess of Gloucester and the little Dutch girl was 
forgotten. 

Had the first Duchess of Gloucester contin- 
ued her career in England, Humphrey might 
have been one of the greatest men in the his- 
tory of that kingdom. Shakspeare calls him 
" good Duke Humphrey," and he was popular 
with both Parliament and the people; but his 
wife's desire to be queen was the ultimate cause 
not only of their own undoing, but of the fall 
of the house of Lancaster. Aside from the 
duke's diplomatic abilities, he was naturally a 
student, and had mastered several languages. 
His letters to certain distinguished foreigners 
in their own tongues and in Latin are now ex- 
tant and fill a number of volumes. To the Uni- 
versity of Oxford he bequeathed a hundred and 
thirty " rare books " as an entry in an old reg- 
ister states it. These have been absorbed in 
the Bodleian, and it is not known which of this 
library's vast aggregation of treasures are the 
duke's gift. He had a fondness also for archi- 
tectural study and built the " Divinity School " 



306 Ways and Days Out of London 

at Oxford. He aided in embellishing and re- 
storing many parts of St. Alban's Abbey. As 
patron of the poet Lydgate he also showed his 
interest in England's budding literature. On 
the occasion of the coronation of the baby king, 
Henry VI, Lydgate wrote a long poem. The 
duke came in for a share of his eulogy: 

Due of Gloucester men this prince call ; 

And notwithstanding his state and dignitie, 
His corage never doth appalle 

To studie in booke of Antiquite; 

Therein he hath so great felicite 
Vertuosli himself to occupie. 

Of vinous slouth to have the maistrie. 

Holinshed says of him: "He was an up- 
right and politike governour, bending all his 
indeavours to the advancement of the common- 
wealth ; verie loving to the poore commons, and 
so beloved of them againe; learned, wise, full 
of courtesie, void of pride and ambition, but 
where it is most commendable." 

Even Shakspeare, however, admits to the 
incessant bickering between Humphrey and 
Cardinal Beaufort, who was a son of John of 
Gaunt, and hoped to obtain to an ecclesiastical 
office that should rival that of Canterbury. 
This Humphrey had prevented. Beaufort's 
enmity for Gloucester was no greater than 



Greenwich 307 

that of Queen Margaret, who saw through 
Eleanor's ambition that the king's protector 
become possessed of the crown as well. Henry, 
who as he grew into manhood loved and de- 
pended upon his uncle, could not have been 
party to his death, although when tales were 
brought to him of alleged treasonable remarks 
made by the duke, he caused him to be sum- 
moned to the court, then at Bury. Said Beau- 
fort: 

That he should die is worthy policie. 
But yet we want a color for his death ; 
'Tis meet he be condemned by course of law. 

He was, but before punishment could be 
imposed Beaufort and the Duke of Suffolk, 
Queen Margaret's tool, arranged a means 
whereby Humphrey was found " dead in his 
bed." King Henry commanded that the body 
be borne in state to St. Paul's in London, where 
it remained for several days before going forth 
to its final resting place in St. Alban's Abbey. 
A legend that the body was interred in St. 
Paul's was for many years believed; but in 
recent times when it became necessary to make 
a vault under the Saints' Chapel in St. Alban's 
a little stone staircase was discovered under 
the pavement, which led down to an ancient 
vault where the duke's body was found, mar- 



308 Ways and Days Out of London 

velously preserved, " embalmed in a brown 
liquor." The miraculous power of the abbey's 
especial saint having disappeared, due to the 
controversy with the monks of Ely as to the 
actual possession of the worthy Alban's bones, 
the discovery of Duke Humphrey's body was 
a source of rich revenue to the abbey ; but un- 
fortunately the good brothers had not be- 
thought them to protect the " remains " from 
air, and the embalming fluid evaporated, 
whereupon the last vestiges of the " good 
duke " M ere not sufficient to " stop a hole to 
keep the wind away." 

All this was borne in upon us by means of 
local guide books and our insufficient memories 
of history lessons and Shakspeare's plays the 
while we sat on the httle hill in Greenwich 
Park. 

" I have been thinking," mused Sonia, " how 
different were those two corteges from Bury 
to London — Eadmund's and Humphrey's." 

"Yes," responded Diana; "I am in the 
mood ' to sit down on the ground and tell sad 
stories of the death of kings ' ; but — oh, dear ! 
we wanted to see the time ball drop. What 
time is it? " 

" Eleven minutes and a half too late! " 

Wherefore we started for the observatory 
almost on a run, lest anything else escape us. 



Greenwich 309 

By " sign language," as Diana termed it, we 
learned that the buildings could only be seen by 
special permit. We agreed that we were quite 
satisfied with this arrangement and averred 
that these queer-shaped structures were un- 
canny and might be the abode of all sorts of 
cabalistic doings. We looked at the big 
twenty-four-hour clock, which is the only por- 
tion of this house of magic that is bold enough 
to show its face to the public gaze. 

" Mercy! " exclaimed Diana; " we are stand- 
ing on a meridian. Ever since I studied geog- 
raphy I have pictured the meridians as big 
cables tied to the poles. I believe I am disap- 
pointed not to find it true. Do you feel any 
peculiar sensations? " 

'* Not even a galvanic thrill. I never have 
been able to understand why so much fuss is 
made about meridians and longitude. Why are 
not zones and latitude quite as important? I 
have always preferred bayadere stripes to ver- 
tical ones." 

" Meridians must have been decided by those 
wizards in yonder to be more becoming to the 
stout figure of Mother Earth. There must be 
another fine view around this corner. Let us 
go and see! " 

A large park is much like a street car in that 
the farther we penetrate beyond the entrance. 



310 Ways and Days Out of London 

the pleasanter it becomes. The heart of Green- 
wich Park was silent, deserted almost; and we 
were monarchs of all we surveyed, save for the 
occasional appearance of a uniformed guard. 
We traversed long broad avenues whose trees 
were superb. Many of the elms were planted 
when the park was made in 1664; but there are 
yews, Lebanon cedars, hawthorns, and great 
Spanish chestnuts that had then been standing 
hundreds of years. 

We came to a fine old house that is now the 
Ranger's House, but might have been a resi- 
dence of Lord Chesterfield or some of his con- 
temporaries. Passing through it we stood at 
the edge of a large bare common which at first 
we mistook for Blackheath. Back into the 
park again we followed the shaded path beside 
the wall where had stood Montague House, the 
residence of poor persecuted Queen Caroline, 
whose enforced divorce by George IV was more 
inhuman than that of Catherine of Aragon by 
the Bluebeard Hal. It was here that the so- 
called " Delicate Investigation " was held. 
There was nothing to be investigated, and 
therefore no real evidence against her charac- 
ter could be obtained. There remains, near 
the wall a sunken stone bath which is called 
hers, and may have been a fountain in her gar- 
den. 



Greenwich 311 

Blackheath, happily, has not yet been swal- 
lowed by the jerry-builders, but still retains 
enough of its ancient character to permit full 
play to our fancy visions of the dramatic events 
that have occurred upon it. In those letters 
from Lord Chesterfield to his son, which re- 
veal the utter absence of real character under 
the diplomatic veneer which was in his estima- 
tion all that a courtier required, he refers to 
Erunswick House, his Blackheath residence, 
as " Babiola." The walk on which we had 
emerged through the Ranger's House is known 
as Chesterfield Walk. Brunswick House and 
Montague House both adjoined the park. 

The Watling Street crossed Blackheath 
about where the London Road now is. Many 
ancient barrows of British and Roman origin 
remained until lately. When opened they fre- 
quently contained, if an}i;hing, merely a few 
bones, which obtains wherever they exist. One 
was permitted to remain in the center of Black- 
heath. This was the scene of the gathering of 
the rebellious followers of Wat Tyler before 
their march to London. The sad and infamous 
causes of this uprising are too well known to 
be reiterated here — and so indeed are the re- 
sults — but the oppression of the people by the 
fortune-favored classes always brings an ache 
to our hearts. Doubtless the Puritan and 



312 Ways and Days Out of London 

Huguenot blood in us still contains traces of 
our ancestors' experiences. 

In the barrow Jack Cade stuck his flag when 
his thirty thousand Kentish men also met here, 
and this clerk of Chatham, pretender to royal 
birth, also led his mob to the gates of London, 
shouting bombastically: "Now is Mortimer 
lord of this citie ! " 

And here camped Henry VI with his Lan- 
castrian forces en route to the battle of St. 
Albans. 

When Lord Audley and his Cornish troops 
came this way looking for trouble they were 
met and defeated at Blackheath by the army of 
the seventh Henry. A prettier ceremony was 
that which for many centuries was customary 
— the meeting of distinguished foreign visitors 
to the Court of England by royalty in person 
or adequate representatives — was effected with 
much pomp and splendor on Blackheath, and 
the guests were conducted in state to London. 

" I think I should not have liked that," said 
practical Diana. " After a dusty drive of sev- 
eral days from Dover, I should have preferred 
to postpone the royal welcome until I had been 
shown to my apartments at the palace and had 
a chance to bathe and dress." 

In 1400, when Manuel, Emperor of Con- 
stantinople, came with gifts and a request for 



Greenwich 313 

aid against the Sultan Bajazet, with whom he 
beheved himself unable to cope without the 
assistance of the great white Christian king, 
Henry IV met him here. Sixteen years after 
his coming the Holy Roman Emperor Sigis- 
mund, who had married a relative of Henry V, 
was also welcomed at Blackheath and escorted 
to Lambeth Palace. 

When Henry returned from Agincourt the 
people of London could not wait to greet him 
there, so the mayor and four hundred citizens 
clad in scarlet robes with red and white hoods 
acclaimed him here. This picture thrills with 
its enthusiasm. 

So let him land 
And solemnly see him set on to London. 
So swift a space hath thought, that even now 
You may imagine him on Blackheath; 
Where that his lords desire him, to have home 
His bruised helmet and his bended sword. 
Before him, through the city : he forbids it, 
Being free from vainness, and self-glorious pride; 
Giving full trophy, signal, and ostent, 
Quite from himself to God. But now behold 
In the quick forge and workinghouse of thought, 
How London doth pour out her citizens ! 
The mayor, and all his brethren, in best sort, 
Like to the senators of the antique Rome, 
With the plebeians swarming at their heels, 
Go forth and fetch their conquering Caesar in. 



314 Ways and Days Out of London 

How different his return a few years later ! 

Cardinal Campeius, who came as the pope's 
emissary regarding the divorce of Henry VIII 
from Catherine, was met on Blackheath by the 
Duke of Norfolk and his suite. 

In his delightful letters to Richard Bentley, 
Horace Walpole writes: " I was charmed lately 
at a visit I made to the Cardigans at Black- 
heath. Would you believe that I had never 
been in Greenwich Park? I never had, and am 
transported! Even the glories of Richmond 
and Twickenham hide their diminished rays." 

Charles II, returned and about to be re- 
stored, came hither on the Watling Street, 
passed through the ranks of the Army of the 
Restoration, and was welcomed by Sir Henry 
Lee, of Woodstock. Instead of the homes 
of wealthy and distinguished Londoners, the 
houses now surrounding Blackheath are chiefly 
boarding schools and lodging houses. 

The body of General Wolfe was borne hither 
after his gallant fight at Quebec and was in- 
terred in the parish church in Greenwich, where 
a memorial window to him was installed. 

We entered the park again. " I thought 
we came to Greenwich to dine on whitebait. 
I am getting very tired and ravenously hungry. 
How can we find the town and something to 
eat? " 



Greenwich 315 

*' I confess it looks as though we should be 
' dining with Duke Humphrey ' to-day. If we 
go back to the Ranger's House we can't have 
anything more substantial than tea and sand- 
wiches. Here comes an empty cab I " 

The cabman proved himself a friend in need 
and in deed. He would not allow us to leave 
the park, however, until we had seen the feeble 
attempt at an oak which is called Queen Eliza- 
beth's, but is in reality a tall stump covered 
with ivy. He saw to it also that we visited the 
*' remains of a Roman villa," which was a not 
very large hole in the ground and might have 
served somebody as a well, had it contained that 
requisite in a well — water. He drove us then 
past Vanbrugh " Castle " outside the park, 
which had been built, we supposed, by that 
clever Sir John Vanbrugh, who, having been 
born in the Bastille, came to England in his 
youth, and became distinguished in many ways. 
Gifted with courtly manners, he was for many 
years a brilliant social light in England, of 
whom no breath of scandal was whispered. He 
was distinguished, moreover, as a successful 
playwright. Even Pope and Swift, " the two 
best haters of the time," could not quite justify 
themselves in throwing the acid of their wit 
upon him. Vanbrugh was a successful but 
not a great architect, although this " castle '* 



316 Ways and Days Out of London 

at Greenwich, which became his home when he 
had been appointed secretary to the commis- 
sion for endowing Greenwich Hospital, is full 
of charm. More pretentious are Castle How- 
ard in Yorkshire, and that which he was com- 
missioned to build for Queen Anne — Blen- 
heim. 

And now at last was there hope of satisfying 
our prodigious appetites. At the Old Ship 
Tavern we were offered a balcony overhanging 
the Thames, which we gleefully accepted. We 
had not long to wait, for a large private party 
was being feasted in one of the upper rooms, 
and as whitebait in excess of their capacity 
had been prepared, we profited thereby. Our 
servitor was of a type presumably peculiar to 
Greenwich and the Old Ship. He was a negro, 
clad in the cast-off evening clothes of some 
gentleman many sizes larger than he. We 
tried vainly not to smile while he was present. 

" I believe," hazarded Sonia, " that his en- 
tire wardrobe descended to him from Mr. 
Gladstone. That cravat, which is so big and 
black and which he has so much difficulty in re- 
straining from climbing up over his left ear, 
could not have been the property of anybody 
but the ' grand old man.' " 

We had become accustomed to coarse napery 
and the spots of some one else's meal, also to 



Greenwich 317 

the absence of serviettes ; but when a great plat- 
ter of golden brown fish was laid before us, 
aromatic and steaming, with an accompani- 
ment of boiled potatoes and cucumber salad, 
we were quite content. 

"What is whitebait?" Sonia asked while 
she daintily caught one on her fork. 

" One of our books says they are the * small 
fry ' of herring ; but it seems this supposition 
was at one time threshed out in Parliament 
and the Piscicuolos minutos were declared to 
be little fishes that never grow larger than this. 
This part of the river seems to be their best 
feeding ground, and that is why the cabinet 
ministers decided to come down here for their 
banquets which celebrate the close of Parlia- 
ment. When it was supposed that their feast- 
ing consumed hundreds — thousands — of baby 
herrings it was discontinued as being cruel and 
a direct infringement on laws which preclude 
the catching of any fish smaller than a certain 
size. After a lapse of fifteen years the Disraeli 
government revived the custom, it having been 
demonstrated to their conscientious satisfac- 
tion that the fishes were not ' small fry,' but 
full-sized fry." 

" I am glad of that. It has always required 
a little strength of purpose for me to swallow 
with equanimity so many heads, eyes — and I 



318 Ways and Days Out of London 

should hate to think I were responsible for the 
slaughter of so many innocents. I don't be- 
lieve I want to eat any more, just because we 
have been talking about it." 

" You eat caviare, do you not? and squab 
chicken? and have I not seen you wear baby 
lamb? If I had to suffer a violent death, I 
should rather have it happen in infancy; there 
would not be so much of me to die." 

" Gladstone " went for what he called des- 
sert, and we waited some time for — cheese ; but 
we were eager to see the Palace of Placentia 
and brooked no further delay due to cheese. 

When Humphrey of Gloucester died, his 
manor and lands became crown property. By 
Edward IV the mansion was enlarged and 
until the commencement of the Civil War it 
continued to be a royal residence. Henry 
VIII was born here and so were his daughters 
Mary and Elizabeth. 

We have records of many sumptuous enter- 
tainments that were given about this time at 
Greenwich Palace, as it had then come to be 
called. One chronicler states that in 1513 there 
was performed, " disguising after the manner 
of Italic, a maske, a thing not seen afore in 
England, on the daie of the Epiphany at 
night." 

A few years later the boys of St. Paul's 



Greenwich 319 

School acted a morality at Greenwich in honor 
of certain French ambassadors come in quest 
of Henry's aid against Charles V of Spain. 
After the royal banquet " the king led the am- 
bassadors into the great chamber of disguis- 
ings ; and in the end of the same chamber was 
a fountain, and on one side was a hawthorn 
tree all of silk with white flowers, and on the 
other side was a mulberry tree full of fair ber- 
ries, all of silk." Atop of the hawthorn tree 
were the arms of England compassed with the 
order of St. Michael, and on the mulberry the 
arms of France within a garter. About this 
marble and gold fountain were bunches of 
rosemary, " fretted in braydes laid on gold, all 
the sides set with roses on branches as they 
were growing about this fountain. On the 
benches sate eight fair ladies in strange attire." 
While the infamous assemblage of bishops — 
London, Winchester, Lincoln, Bath, and Wells 
— were, under Canterbury Cranmer's direc- 
tion, finding cause for the divorce of the Ara- 
gonnaise from her royal spouse, Catherine's 
maid of honor was waiting at Greenwich Pal- 
ace for the news that should permit her to be 
queen. Four days before that verdict she was 
brought in state to the Tower by the Lord 
Mayor and the city companies " with one of 
those splendid exhibitions upon the water which 



320 Ways and Days Out of London 

in the days when the silver Thames deserved its 
name, and the sun could shine down upon it 
out of the blue summer sky, were spectacles 
scarcely rivaled in gorgeousness by the world- 
famous wedding of the Adriatic. The river 
was crowded with boats, the banks and the ships 
in the pool swarmed with people, and fifty great 
barges formed the great procession, all blaz- 
ing with gold and banners." The queen-elect's 
barge was preceded by " a foyst or w after full 
of ordnance, in which was a great dragon con- 
tinually moving and casting wildfire, and round 
about the foj^st stood terrible monsters and 
wild men, casting fire and making hideous 
noise." The king awaited her at the Tower 
steps. 

This marriage, however, was not liked by the 
ecclesiastics, and in those days the church had 
power to make the divine right of kings seem 
but a poor thing. Attached to the Royal 
Chapel at Greenwich was a convent of Observ- 
ants. At this time Father Forest was warden, 
who, having been Catherine's confessor, re- 
mained faithful to her interests and proclaimed 
from the pulpit his condemnation of the mar- 
riage. Cromwell had not been spared either; 
but Cromwell had his revenge. The priest was 
summoned to the court. His zeal proved to be 
greater than his knowledge of ministerial meth- 




This great-hearted little fighter. 



Greenwich 321 

ods. Cromwell received him graciously, as did 
the king; and we can see fair Anne with a 
smirk on her face and hatred in her small heart. 
This tolerance Father Forest mistook for fear 
of his power and promptly lost his head, figura- 
tively speaking. The literal loss came ulti- 
mately, for he perished at the stake. 

Another priest. Father Peto, afterwards 
cardinal, preached in the Royal Chapel at 
Greenwich in denunciation of Henry and this 
marriage. He foretold, moreover, the licking 
of his blood by dogs when the king should be- 
come a corpse. And when the great body lay 
at Syon House, this horrid prediction was ful- 
filled. 

In this same " Friars Chapel," as Shak- 
speare calls it, Henry's christening had oc- 
curred. Elizabeth's, too, was solemnized with 
great pomp. The " Manor of Pleasaunce " 
was one of her favorite residences. May Day, 
the great annual holiday, was, during her time, 
always observed at Greenwich mth elaborate 
festivities. Here, too, she received the deputies 
from the United Provinces, 

They whom the rod of Alva bruised, 
Whose crown a British queen refused — 

come to offer her sovereignty of their crushed 
but still courageous lands. 



322 Ways and Days Out of London 

Hentzner, a German traveler who recorded 
many of his impressions, saw Queen Bess in 
1598, in her " dress of white silk with pearls as 
large as beans, a small crown on her " (sixty- 
five-years-old) " red tresses, and the long train 
of her robe borne by a marchioness." It was 
at Greenwich, also, that Raleigh first inter- 
viewed her and became immortal by means of 
a muddied coat. Only a part of the crypt re- 
mains of the palace as it was then. 

James I made notable additions to the pal- 
ace ; but the Queen's House, intended for Anne 
of Denmark — and which she called her " house 
of delight " — was not completed until later, 
when Inigo Jones was given the commission. 
Henrietta Maria, who lived in such troublous 
times, preferred Green^vich to all the other 
royal residences and came here whenever she 
could. 

When Charles II became the national " new 
broom " he did a few good things, fortu- 
nately, for he did so many unpleasant 
things and left undone so much that was 
necessary. 

" I believe," said Sonia, " that Americans 
must have a large proportion of royal blood in 
their circulatory system, for where else could 
they have obtained their incurable propensity 
for tearing down perfectly good buildings in 



Greenwich 323 

order to see new ones of their own planning 
arise J 

Sonia may be mistaken ; but certain it is that 
King Charles, finding Greenwich Palace in 
need of repair, pulled it down, and began to 
erect a new one. Pepys saw the plans, and his 
frugal soul was shocked at the cost; but only 
one wing of it was completed during Charles's 
sovereignty. One of the good things for which 
we are grateful to Charles was the planning 
and planting of the one hundred and eighty- 
eight acres that constitute Greenwich Park. 
Summoned from his continental labors was 
the great landscape gardener, Le Notre, whose 
skill is still exemplified in the parks of Ver- 
sailles, Chantilly, Meudon, Saint-Cloud, Fon- 
tainebleau, St. Germain-en-Laye, and Sceaux 
in France ; in Rome, the Vatican Gardens, the 
Quirinal, Villa Albani, Villa Ludovisi, and 
Villa Doria Pamphili; in London, St. James 
and Kensington. 

Diana gasped when we read this list : " What 
a record ! Any one would have been enough to 
make him famous. And I never heard his 
name until now ! " 

A still greater achievement, however, helps 
to balance Charles's account with England. 
Since the Ptolemies astronomical observations 
of importance had been made not only by su- 



324 Ways and Days Out of London 

perstitious shepherds, but by studious men. 
The Greeks and Arabs were more assiduous for 
many years than others. At length the neces- 
sity for an observatory was felt and to a Dane, 
Tycho Brahe, is due the distinction of having 
constructed the first one (in 1576 on the island 
of Hveen near Copenhagen). He called it 
" Uranienborg " (city of the heavens) . Then 
England began to awaken. The news that Sir 
J. JMoore proposed erecting at his own expense 
an observatory at Chelsea came to Charles's 
ears ; and as he then had Greenwich " on the 
brain " he straightway commanded that one be 
placed on a certain hill in Greenwich Park, 
which would lift the celestial observer a hun- 
dred and eighty feet nearer the stars. The 
first " astronomcial observator," Flamsteed, of 
Denby in Derbyshire, had already proved his 
fitness for the position in a notable book: " The 
True and Apparent Places of the Planets 
when at Their Greatest Distances from the 
Earth." Flamsteed made his observations 
from the Queen's House until July, 1676, 
when the observatory was completed. He was, 
alas! ill paid and overworked. One hundred 
pounds a year was his stipend; and he was 
obliged to supply his own instruments. It was 
royally decreed that he "apply himself with 
the most exact care and diligence to rectifying 



Greenwich 325 

the tables of the motions of the heavens and the 
places of the fixed stars in order to find out the 
much-desired longitude at sea for perfecting 
the art of navigation." The scope of this ob- 
servatory has, without deviating from this pol- 
icy, been so extended as to include photo- 
graphic and spectroscopic observations of the 
greatest value to science. Flamsteed was suc- 
ceeded by a man whose name is more widely 
known. Edmund Halley was a friend of Sir 
Isaac Newton, and but for his encouragement 
the manuscript setting forth Newton's theories 
regarding falling apples and boiling tea-ket- 
tles might never have been published. In 1704 
Halley, after many years of close study on 
the subject, boldly predicted that a certain 
comet which had flashed across the heavens 
twenty years before would reappear after an 
absence of seventy-six years. He was dead in 
1758, but the comet which forever bears his 
name appeared exactly as he had foretold. 

Charles's palace at Greenwich remained in- 
complete until the time of William and Mary, 
who, after the great naval victory of La Hogue 
— England's first defeat of the French since 
Agincourt — when so many seamen were 
wounded, it was determined to erect a great 
naval hospital at Greenwich as a grateful me- 
morial and also as a means of relief to injured 



326 Ways and Days Out of London 

or infirm sailors. Sir Christopher Wren gra- 
tuitously offered his services as architect, and 
the great hospital arose where Placentia had 
been. The funds for this undertaking were 
furnished from many sources. The king gave 
liberally, as did many of his wealthy subjects; 
Parliament made certain grants, and fines 
were imposed with renewed assiduity upon 
smugglers; a duty of sixpence per month 
was exacted from all seamen; and when dur- 
ing the reign of George II the Earl of Der- 
wentwater was attainted and executed for 
participating in the rebellion of 1715, his 
estates were made over to the hospital fund, 
which amounted to eighteen thousand pounds 
per annum. At Chatham, Elizabeth had es- 
tablished a chest, to which all seamen were 
compelled to contribute from their wages to 
provide pensions for their disabled fellows; 
this was transferred to Greenwich Hospital 
a century after its founding. The hospital 
was completed in 1705, Evelyn, then Treas- 
urer of the Navy, having laid the first stone; 
at which time a hundred disabled seamen 
were admitted. Three years later the number 
had increased to three hundred and fifty. The 
compulsory contributions of seamen in service 
was remitted in 1834, a yearly appropriation 
of twenty thousand pounds being substituted 



Greenwich 327 

from the endowment. By 1865 the income 
had reached one hundred and fifty thousand 
pounds, and the number of pensioners had 
grown to sixteen hundred. Then an odd thing 
happened. The beautiful Greek buildings had 
come to mean to the aged tars what the beau- 
tiful almshouses in England mean to the aged 
poor. The governors wisely gave the inmates 
of the hospital the privilege of voting for its 
continuance or discontinuance. The noes had 
it to a man, and now, be their homes never so 
humble, the pensioners of the Greenwich Hos- 
pital live with their families, and the charity 
provides for a far larger number than before, 
thereby giving us a faint notion of England's 
sea power. 

These beautiful buildings were vacant for 
five years; then the Royal Naval College, 
which had been at Portsmouth, was removed to 
Greenwich, as were also the School of Naval 
Architecture and the Naval Museum, Kensing- 
ton. 

From the park we had seen the Queen's 
House with its colonnade, so we made it the 
first object of our afternoon's peregrination. 
This is now the school in which a thousand boys, 
sons of seamen, are educated for the navy and 
for merchant service at the expense of the hos- 
pital funds. In the yard before the house is 



B28 Ways and Days Out of London 

a full-sized ship; and as we strolled past, the 
boys, in their picturesque uniforms, were being 
drilled in manning the yards. 

Only a small part of the quadrangular group 
of buildings which constitute the hospital, as 
it is still called, is shown to visitors. The 
chapel, which had been rebuilt in recent years 
after a fire, did not detain us as long as if it had 
been the original one in which Father Forest 
and Father Peto preached, and Henry VIII 
and Elizabeth were baptized. It had been 
King William's idea to have a statue of his 
queen in the inner court, but it was never ac- 
compHshed. This was unfortunate, because, as 
JNIacaulay says : " Few of those who now gaze 
on the noblest of European hospitals are aware 
that it is a memorial of the virtues of the good 
Queen Mary, of the love and sorrow of Wil- 
liam, and of the great victory of La Hogue." 

The great painted hall in King William's 
building was originally the dining hall of the 
hospital. The depicting on the ceiling of Wil- 
liam and Mary surrounded by their embodied 
virtues required of Sir James Thornhill twenty 
years' work. Truly are the dining halls in 
England dignified, stately and sumptuous evi- 
dence of the Englishman's undying distinction 
between the art of dining and the eating of 
dinner. From the Charterhouse and Middle 



Greenwich 329 

Temple Hall in London, from the lofty pan- 
eled halls at Cambridge, the refectories in many 
an ancient abbey and castle, from Windsor and 
Hampton Court to the hospital at Greenwich, 
dining is proven to be an almost sacramental 
event. This Painted Hall at Greenwich is 
hung with canvases depicting the many vic- 
tories of the Mistress of the Seas. They are 
mostly bloody affrays, not pleasant to femi- 
nine eyes; but we hugely enjoyed some of the 
groups of little boys and of old salts whose 
beard-encircled faces reminded us of him who 
was 

— a cook and a captain bold, 

And the mate of the Nancy brig 

And a bo's'n tight, and a midshipmite, 
And the crew of the captain's gig. 

The glee of the old sailors was as great as that 
of the little boys, all of whom were utterly 
rapt in the scenes they studied so minutely. Of 
Lord Nelson we were reminded when we saw 
the portrait of him, a copy of that by Hoppner. 
We had not known that a whole room in this 
building was devoted to relics of this, Eng- 
land's greatest admiral. Infinitely more thrill- 
ing than the battle scenes in the Painted Hall 
which depicted him in many engagements were 
the simple personal belongings of the man. 



330 Ways and Days Out of London 

There was the tiny coat which he had worn 
at Trafalgar when he was shot. Its sleeve was 
small enough for a boy of twelve years. There 
was the sword which was placed beside his body 
when it was lying in state in the Painted Hall, 
before being borne up the Thames to the ad- 
miralty in London. His ea^ libris even Diana, 
the collector, looked upon with misty eyes and 
a heart free from covetousness. Saddest of all 
the sad and tender memorials in this room was 
the original letter he had written on board the 
Victory, beseeching the English nation to be 
kind to Lady Hamilton wlio had been instru- 
mental in obtaining information which had 
more than once enabled him to win great vic- 
tories for England. This great-hearted little 
fighter, as tender as he was stern, had not re- 
ceived the Churcli's sanction to his marriage 
with Emma Hamilton, — who surely in the eyes 
of God was his beloved wife, — had not realized 
how much bitter obloquy English society can 
visit upon a woman whose unlegalized love is 
made known. 

We were silent as we descended into the 
quadrangle again and went on to Queen Mary's 
building, which is used as a museum for ship 
models of all sorts and kinds, interesting even 
to us who had no technical knowledge of their 
merits. The great, battered black iron Chat- 




50 



3 



Greenwich 831 

ham Chest, whose mission is now, happily, only 
reminiscent, we really coveted. 

" I feel," said Sonia, " as though it must be 
filled at this moment with thousands of pieces 
of eight and bushels of gold doubloons. 
Wouldn't it be fun just to run our hands 
through to the bottom and let the gold coin 
slip slowly through our fingers, just to hear 
the delicious chink of it? " 

Passing out of the gate on King William 
Street a bobby touched his hat courteously. 
Diana had a mischievous impulse. She knew 
the answer to her question; but put it never- 
theless : " Officer, will you kindly tell me wheth- 
er the next boat for London is due at five- 
thirty? " 

" There are no steamers to London, Miss. 
You can take the electric tram " 

" No, thank you. I think," smiling sweetly, 
" we prefer to return by boat." 

" He must be right," Sonia demurred. 
" Bobbies always know everything." 

Diana led the way boldly to the pier, where 
over a little ticket booth was a sign to the effect 
that return tickets to London might be had for 
one and six. " Is the next steamer for Lon- 
don at five-thirty? " 

" Yes, Miss; just eight minutes to wait." 

We waited on the landing, where so many 



332 Ways and Days Out of London 

royal comings and goings had occurred. Poor 
King Hal! How different was his reception 
here of the unprepossessing fourth bride-elect, 
Anne of Cleves, who came from Rochester by 
water to her reluctant lord. Of Wolsey's 
gorgeous approach with yeomen standing upon 
the sails of his barge we chatted the while we 
watched some children wading along the 
shingly beach, or glanced at the line of seamen 
who sat discussing affairs of international im- 
portance, as though they had been a special 
committee of Parliament to determine upon 
serious measures. Some people went down a 
stairway and vanished from sight. We were 
curious and even a trifle alarmed; but we in- 
vestigated and found the entrance to the tunnel 
to the Isle of Dogs, where the royal kennels 
were kept for many years, and which is now 
wholly given over to shipping. Then our little 
black steamer glided up to the landing and we 
returned to London on a river of magic and 
mystery, flashing here with great shafts of light 
that burst through heavy clouds, glooming 
there darkly under the heavy masses of yellow- 
black vapor. Our last view of Greenwich Hos- 
pital was the best of all. Then we became ab- 
sorbed in the fascination of the shipping which 
extends all the way to London. A P. and O. 
steamer, just in from the Orient, put us in- 



Greenwich 333 

stantly in touch with India, with Rangoon, 
and Mandalay. And there were steamers from 
America, from Barbadoes, and from the utter- 
most parts of the earth, all come to London, 
the magnet which draws unto itself the richest 
and best that the lands and looms of all coun- 
tries produce, to London, the market of the 
world. 




CHAPTER XVIII 



Dunstable and Fenny Stratford 

JUST why a prominent " Beds " town 
should take its name from an outlaw and 
robber who was hated as much as he was feared 
is difficult to imagine. The town itself is almost 
as ancient as the Chiltern Hills, which rear 
their sometimes bald heads near by. Before 
the Romans constructed that wonderful road 
from Dover to London and thence to Holy- 
head, the Britons had aggregated a few of 
their mud-and-straw huts, and called the ham- 
let Maes Gwyn, or White Field, because when 
they dug a stake hole or turned the soil for 
planting " corn " they found it to be white 
chalk in many places rather than the rich brown 
loam prevalent elsewhere. 

The little village was a boon to the Romans, 
who lost no time in occupying it at the expense 

334 



Dunstable and Fenny Stratford 335 

of the natives; for it lay at the junction of two 
of their greatest military roads — Watling 
Street and Icknield Way. The Britons had 
vainly sought in their ignorant simplicity to 
save their village from the conquerors by sur- 
rounding it with earthworks. 

After the retirement of the Romans from Al- 
bion the Danes had their innings ; and to them 
is largely due the sparsity of Roman buildings. 
But for their savage lust of fire, blood, and 
loot, there might be fair temples, arches, col- 
umns, and colosseii amid the green of rural 
England to-day. 

Some who have delved into the meager rec- 
ords of ancient history assert that Dunstable's 
name is derived from Dunum (hill) and Staple 
(market) . " In England, formerly, the king's 
staple was established in certain ports or towns, 
and certain goods could not be exported with- 
out first being brought to these ports, to be 
rated and charged with the duty, payable to 
the king or public." From this came the pres- 
ent meaning of " staple " article or commodity. 

In the time of Henry I a bold, bad bandit, 
whose name was Dun or Dunninge, gathered 
about him a number of outlaws who so terror- 
ized this neighborhood that a whole forest was 
burned down by the king's command in order 
to exterminate this sort of vermin and bring 



336 Ways and Days Out of London 

highway knighthood to an end. The meeting 
of the two great roads in the center of this for- 
est had given them opportunity in plenty for 
robbery and murder. The burning of the for- 
est, however, did not terminate their depreda- 
tions; of which more anon. To return to the 
matter of Dunstable's name: In the town is 
still shown a cellar which is alleged to be the 
cave used by Dun for stabling his horse and for 
a place of retirement when justice threatened to 
overtake him. They tell of a post to which a 
ring and a staple were attached, that existed 
in this cave several hundred years after Dun's 
death. At any rate there are a ring and a sta- 
ple on the ancient arms of Dunstable; so why 
question the origin of the town's name? 

Near Dunstable upon the Down, 
There is an ale-house, and but one ; 
Not far from hence, if we may credit 
Some ancient authors that have said it, 
Erst dwelt, to make the story brief, 
Old Dun, that memorable thief: 
Within a hollow, under-ground, 
Apartments still are to be found, 
Where both himself and horse retreated, 
And still all hues and cries defeated. 

Thus wrote Butler, author of the famous 
" Hudibras." An ancient illuminated manu- 



Dunstable and Fenny Stratford 337 

script contained in the church chest portrays 
a post with pendant ring and staple. There 
are also preserved these " Verses concerninge 
the Name and Armes of Dunstaple, 1558." 

By Houghton Regis, there, where Watlinge Streete 
Is crossed by Icknell way, once grew a wood 
With bushes thick o'erspread: a coverte meete 
To harbour such as lay in waite for blood, 
There lurkte of ruffians bolde an hideous route 
Whose captaine was one Dunne, of courage stoute. 

No travailer almost coulde passe that way 

But either he was wounded, rob'd, or kil'd 

By that leude crewe, which there in secreete lay: 

With murthers, theftes, and rapes, their hands were 

fil'd, 
With booties ere they tooke, ech had his share ; 
Thus yeare by yeare they liv'd without all care. 

At last King Henrie, first king of that name. 
Toward the northern partes in progresse rode ; 
And hearing of those great abuses, came 
Unto the thicket where the theeves abode; 
Who on the comminge of the king did flie 
Each to his house, or to his friende did hie. 

Wherefore the kinge such mischiefes to prevent, 
The woode cut downe ; the waye all open layde 
That all trew men, which that way rode or wente, 
Of Sodaine sallyes might be lesse afFrayde; 
And might descrie theire danger ere it came, 
And so by wise forseighte escape the same. 



338 Ways and Days Out of London 

This done, he rear'd a poull both huge and longe 
In that roade-highway, where so many passe; 
And in the poull let drive a staple stronge, 
Whereto the king's own ringe appendant was ; 
And caused it to be publisht that this thinge 
Was done to see what thiefe durst steale the ringe. 

Yet for all that, the ringe, was stol'n away, 
Which, when it came to learned Beauclark's eare, 
By skylful arte to finde, he did assay 
Who was the thiefe, and first, within what shyre 
His dwelHnge was, which this bould act had done, 
And found it to be Bedffordshire, anon. 

Next in what hundred off that shyre might dwell 
This vent'rous wighte, Kinge Henrie caste to find ; 
And upon Mansfield Hundred, straight it fell, 
Which being founde, he after bent his minde 
To learn the parish, and by like skyll tride 
That he in Houghton Regis did abide. 

Lastlie, the parish knowne, he further soughte 

To find the verie house where he remaynde ; 

And by the preceptes of his arte he toughte ; 

That by one widow Dun he was retayned; 

The widowe's house was searched, so wil'd the kinge, 

And with her sonne was founde, staple and ringe. 

Thus Beauclarke by his arte, founde out the thiefe ; 

A lustie tall younge man of courage good, 

Which of the other ruffians was the Chiefe; 

That closlie lurked in that waylesse wood. 

Then Dunne, this captain thiefe, the widowe's sonne, 

Was hanged for the feates which he had donne. 



Dunstable and Fenny Stratford 339 

And where the thicket stoode, the kinge did build 

A market towne for saulfetie of all those 

Which travail'd that way, that it might them yielde 

A sure refuge from all thievishe foes ; 

And there king Henrie, of his great bountie, 

Founded a church, a schole, and priorie. 

And for that Dunne, before the woode was downe, 

Had there his haunte, and thence did steale away 

The staple and the ring, thereof the towne 

Is called Dunstaple untill this day ; 

Also in armes, that corporation, 

The staple and the ringe give thereupon. 

To the outlaw the king paid the compliment 
of building a royal mansion where the splen- 
did trees had been and issuing a proclamation 
whereby whosoever would was invited to settle 
near his new palace, Kingsbury. He also 
offered low land rents and sundry privileges 
not elsewhere accorded; as, for instance, a 
semi-weekly market and a three-day fair at the 
feast of St. Peter-in-chains. This saint was 
chosen also for patron of a priory soon after- 
wards established. It is to be hoped that Dun 
appreciated the grim humor of all this public 
acknowledgment of his power. The Bedford- 
shire bugaboo was yet to be conquered. Of him 
the National Register of Crime records many 
vivid incidents. 



340 Ways and Days Out of London 

" His first exploit was on the highway to 
Bedford, where he met a wagon full of corn 
going to market, drawn by a beautiful team of 
horses. He accosted the driver, and in the 
middle of the conversation stabbed him to the 
heart with a dagger which he always carried 
with him. He buried the body, and mounting 
the wagon, proceeded to the town, where he 
sold all off and decamped with the money. One 
day, having heard that some la^\yers were to 
dine at a certain inn in Bedford, about an hour 
before the appointed time he came running to 
the inn, and desired the landlord to hurry the 
dinner, and to have enough ready for ten or 
twelve. The company soon arrived and the 
lawyers thought Dun a servant of the house, 
while those of the house supposed him to be 
an attendant of the lawyers. He bustled about, 
and the bill being called for, he collected it; 
and having some change to return to the com- 
pany, they waited for his return; but growing 
weary they rang the bell and inquired for their 
money, when they discovered him to be an im- 
postor." After many exploits, less clever and 
more outrageous than that of the lawyers' ban- 
quet. Dun and his band became such a source 
of terror that the sheriff of Bedford sent a posse 
to attack him in one of his retreats; but the 
sheriff was too economical of men, and the rob- 




The gateway is all ihat remains of the old Priory. 



Dunstable and Fenny Stratford 341 

bers completely routed the emissaries of jus- 
tice, taking eleven of them prisoners and swing- 
ing them on near-by trees as a warning to 
other ambitious sheriffs. These men should 
have been made cabinet ministers, so deft was 
their ability to cope with any situation. Attired 
in the garb of the sheriff's men whom they had 
hanged. Dun and his fellows proceeded to the 
castle of one of the county nobility, and in the 
king's name demanded admission in order to 
seek for that renegade, Dun. After searching 
throughout the house keys of trunks and ward- 
robes were demanded and the merry band took 
all they could carry of plate and jewelry. The 
irate nobleman complained to Parliament, and 
doubtless wrote a letter to the Times, or its 
predecessor, and after the official wheels had 
turned far enough it was discovered that the 
trick was, indeed, not due to the defection of 
the county constabulary. The countryside at 
last ran Dun to earth, surrounded his place of 
concealment, and posted its two staunchest 
men at the door. Again too much economy. 
Dun's swift blade killed them both, and while 
the smocked ones were realizing this, he bridled 
his horse and forced his way through them. 
Then the farmers bethought them of pitch- 
forks, rakes and hoes ; and by some accident they 
caught up with him and dragged him from the 



342 Ways and Days Out of London 

saddle. But he clambered up again and cut a 
way through the crowd with his sword. It 
was like a " moving-picture " show. Again he 
was pursued, unseated, and led them a chase of 
two miles afoot. Coming to a river, he stripped 
off his clothes, and carrying his sword between 
his teeth swam toward the opposite bank, which 
he found to be thronged with his pursuers. A 
number of boats were pressed into service, and 
he repeatedly fought off the blows of impend- 
ing oars; but a successful blow on the head 
from one of them caused a syncope. Magnani- 
mously they bore him to a surgeon, before tak- 
ing him before the magistrate, who sent him to 
jail under strong guard. They waited for him 
to recuperate somewhat, and then he was led to 
the Bedford Market Place, where the execu- 
tioners awaited. Nine times Dun felled these 
two, and the populace had rare and thrilling 
entertainment. When the offender was at last 
overcome vengeance in the king's name fol- 
lowed apace. They hacked off his hands at 
the wrist and his arms at elbow and shoulder. 
They seemed fearful lest he might not yet be 
dead; and so the entire body was cut up into 
little bits, the head burned, and the other por- 
tions " fixed up " in various places, triumph- 
antly asserting that the arm of justice was 
mighty, if a bit thick-headed and slow. 



Dunstable and Fenny Stratford 343 

In a history of Dunstable, Mr. Derbyshire 
(of Bedfordshire) tells graphically of Dun's 
exploits and end. 

Now that the neighborhood nightmare was 
no longer to be feared, the colonizing of this 
part of the county, at the king's invitation, pro- 
ceeded apace. A priory of black canons was 
founded in honor of St. Peter, to which was 
granted the rents from the town of Dunstable 
and all rights and privileges of this town, ex- 
cepting only his palace. 

" It would seem," said Sonia, " that even a 
pre-Plantaganet king could have foreseen 
trouble between town and monastery; but 
kings in those days took little thought for the 
morrow. The line of least resistance was 
theirs." 

This first Henry, however, felt a genuine 
interest in the town of Dunstable whither he 
came several times with his vast retinue for 
Yuletide festivities and other. And here came 
Henry, Duke of Normandy, to be promised 
by King Stephen the throne of England. 

" Old Lackland, the pennywise," laughed 
Diana, " did not like Kingsbury Palace, so he 
granted it and its garden to the priory, stipu- 
lating that he be gratuitously entertained 
whensoever he chose to visit there. Was not 
he a magnanimous old dog? " 



344 Ways and Days Out of London 

We were sitting in the shady courtyard of 
the Red Lion, waiting for luncheon to be pre- 
pared. The inn's genial proprietor, over whom 
apoplexy hea\Tly hung, had shown us the room 
just above where we now were resting in which 
Charles I had slept on his way to the battle 
of Xaseby. Perceiving our interest he showed 
us also an old tapestry of wondrous Gobelin- 
like blue, and his many little treasures of porce- 
lain, of silver, and of rosewood the while he 
confided to us his pride in his only son, who 
had gone into the world to make a mark and 
a fortune. His wife being an invahd, mine 
host himself attended to the preparation of 
luncheon, having told us where we could pro- 
cure local histories and arms china. 

Sonia stroked a sleek cat as she read. Diana 
now and then interrupted her researches by 
stooping to caress a somnolent fox terrier who 
had assumed the host's duties to the Red Lion's 
guests. 

"How interesting!" exclaimed Sonia after 
a long silence. " We must go to the church 
and see if they ^ill show it to us." 

" Show what? The church? Perhaps it is 
big enough to show itself." 

" No ! the pall. Listen ! Once upon a time 
there was in connection ^\dth the Dunstable 
church a fraternity of John the Baptist. Early 



Dunstable and Fenny Stratford 345 

in the sixteenth century there was presented to 
the fraternity by Henry Fayrey and Agnes, his 
wife, a curiously WTOught altar cloth. Here 
is what an ancient document savs of it : ' It is 
made of the richest crimson and gold brocade 
imaginable, and so exquisitely and curiously 
wrought that it puzzles the greatest artists 
of weaving now living to so much as guess at 
the manner of its performance. It is six feet 
four inches long by two feet two inches broad, 
from whence hangs down a border of purple 
velvet thirteen inches deep, whereon is lively 
and most richly worked with a needle St. John 
the Baptist between fourteen men and women; 
under the foremost is ^vi-itten Henry FajTcy 
and Agnes Fayrey, between the arms of the 
mercers. Viz. — 

" ' G a demi virgin with her hair dishevelled, 
crowned, issuing out (and wdthin an orte) of 
clouds, all proper, A on a f ess comssone B and 
G 3 annulets O between six crosses bottone S. 

" ' The haberdashers arms. Barry nebule of 
6 A and B on a bend C a lion passant quad- 
rant O. 

" ' And on a shield part}" per pale O and B 
a chevron between three eagles displayed coun- 
terchanged, as many lozenges 

By this time we were laughing so heartily 
that the fox terrier set up a loud barking, eye- 



346 Ways and Days Out of London 

ing us with some suspicion, and the cheery land- 
lord peeped out of the kitchen, smiling in sym- 
pathy with our happiness. Sonia insisted upon 
finishing the description. " ' Thus are the 
sides ; but at the ends is only St. Jolm between 
a gentleman and his wife.' " 

" I would not have believed St. John capable 
of coming between a gentleman and his wife," 
said Diana, refusing to become serious again. 

Nearly two centuries ago the beautiful cloth 
vanished, and none knew what had become of 
it until 1867, when a clergyman in Suffolk, who 
had received it as security for money loaned 
to a fellpw cleric thirty years previously, was 
led by a study of its decoration to believe that 
originally it had been made for some Bedford- 
shire monastery. The fellow cleric had died, 
and as he left no heirs the Suffolk dominie did 
not know what to do with the cloth. Corre- 
spondence elicited the fact that this was the 
long-lost pall of crimson, which was presum- 
ably taken from the church at Dunstable along 
with other loot at the time of the monastery's 
suppression. 

It was at Dunstable in 1224 that Fawkes de 
Brent, a notoriously criminal " gentleman," 
was fined by the king's justices for outrageous 
and lawless conduct upon many occasions. He 
was a sort of Brian de Bois-Guilbert, and when 



Dunstable and Fenny Stratford 347 

news was brought him of the justices' ruling he 
sent a company of his adherents to Dunstable, 
giving them order to seize at least one of the 
judges and conduct him without undue cere- 
mony to his castle at Bedford. To Henry de 
Braybroke fell the ignominy of being hauled 
to De Brent's stronghold. When the king 
heard of it he came with several of his lords 
and Stephen Langton to storm the castle. An 
old chronicle describes this siege at length in 
such detail as would delight our modern school- 
boys. It was Scott to the life, with its man- 
gonels, its barbicans, its falling towers, and its 
final fire. The beautiful Rebecca alone was 
lacking to give romance to the fray. Fawkes 
was not taken, despite the royal tactics; but 
eventually he obtained pardon on condition 
that he exile himself henceforth from England. 
Like the lay fraternities at St. Albans and 
some other monasteries, this of St. John at 
Dunstable admitted wealthy and distinguished 
members to whom promise of prayers for their 
salvation before, during, and after death gently 
suggested the piety and all-round advisability 
of making to the priory generous offerings, 
which — so far as our knowledge extends — were 
never refused by the good brothers, as pos- 
sessing ptomaine possibilities. Lord Alan de 
Hyde and Alice, his wife, were to this fraternity 



348 Ways and Days Out of London 

very much as Duke Humphrey and Jacquehne 
were to that of St. Albans — a source of rich 
revenue. ^ 

Henry III and his queen, Eleanor of Pro- 
vence, with their children enjoyed the convent's 
hospitality on several occasions. At one of 
these visits their majesties were presented with 
a golden cup and the little prince and princess 
received each a gold buckle from the prior. 
Needless is it to add that the royalties upon all 
such visits made costly offerings to the insti- 
tution. Once they were accompanied by a 
papal legate. Cardinal Attaboni, and Simon de 
Montfort, who was Attaboni's brother-in-law. 
Again Henry brought Richard, King of Ger- 
many. 

A Chere Heine Cross was erected in the mar- 
ket place at Dunstable by Edward I, whose 
dead queen rested a night at the priory on the 
long way to London. For the monastery's 
hospitality, the king gave to the prior two rich 
cloths (bawdekyns) and a hundred and twenty 
pounds of wax. The cross was destroyed by 
sportive soldiers in command of the Earl of 
Essex during the time of Charles I, while 
marching, no doubt, to Naseby. This same 
Edward, who had erected the cross and who was 
both thoughtful and generous, could at times 
be royally inconsiderate. He once made a long 





Like a slender white arrow the great Roman road pointed northward. 



Dunstable and Fenny Stratford 349 

stay, accompanied by his retinue, at St. Albans 
and at Abbots' Langley near by. In order to 
feed so unaccustomed a house party the market 
at Dunstable was obliged to supply butter, 
cheese, eggs, and so forth ad libitum, with- 
out remuneration — that went to the already 
unjustly rich abbey — and the townsfolk 
of Dunstable, whose purses were ready 
to pay for their purchases, found nought 
to buy. 

At the psychological moment when Wat 
Tyler's rebellion and simultaneously a dozen 
others began, one Thomas Hobbes, then Mayor 
of Dunstable, boldly led his burgesses to the 
priory and demanded a charter of liberties. It 
was granted after much ado; but, of course, 
when things had settled down again the prior 
revoked the charter under plea of having been 
coerced. 

" It was in the chapel of Our Lady in the 
Dunstable church," said our host, who chatted 
with us while we ate mutton chops and fresh 
peas, " that Archbishop Cranmer proclaimed 
the marriage of Henry and Catherine to have 
been only de facto and not de jure, and conse- 
quently null from the beginning." The queen 
was at Ampthill, a few miles away, awaiting 
the decision quite as eagerly as did at Green- 
wich her former maid of honor. 



850 Ways and Days Out of London 

The Archbishop 
Of Canterbury, accompanied with other 
Learned and reverend fathers of his order, 
Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off 
From Ampthill, where the princess lay; to which 
She oft was cited by them, but appear'd not : 
And, to be short, for not-appearance and 
The king's late scruple, by the main assent 
Of all these learned men she was divorc'd, 
And the late marriage made of none effect: 
Since which, she was removed to Kimbolton, 
Where she remains now, sick. 

At Kimbolton she remained until death re- 
leased her less than three years afterwards. 
Even in death was she thwarted. Her will 
requested that she be buried in a convent of the 
Observants, who had ever been faithful to her 
interests; but the king caused her body to be 
placed in the abbey church at Peterborough. 

Elizabeth's journey ings between London 
and Warwick took her through Dunstable. 
She was the last royal visitor in the town 
until 1841, when Queen Victoria and Prince 
Albert stopped at the Sugar Loaf en route 
to Woburn Abbey for a visit to the Duke of 
Bedford. 

We had engaged a team to drive us as far as 
Fenny Stratford, about twelve miles beyond 
Dunstable on the Watling Street. Before 



Dunstable and Fenny Stratford 351 

starting, however, we went to see the church, 
whose conglomerate architecture is as amusing 
as it is starthng. We peeped in at its fine Nor- 
man bays and walked about in quest of some- 
thing human and authoritative to show us the 
church chest, with its precious old documents, 
and the pall of crimson velvet; but we were 
alone among the myriad monuments to 
dead and gone Chews. Sunk in the middle 
aisle is a slab to the memory of a wo- 
man who had three times three children and 
twice five. 

" I wonder how long she lived after the sec- 
ond quintet? " Diana said; " she ought to have 
had a mausoleum on the summit of a hill where 
race suicides most do congregate." 

The gateway is all that remains of the old 
priory, save a few beams in a straw factory 
within the inclosure to which the gate presum- 
ably opens. Straw factories have to be; but 
what a pity that this one could not have occu- 
pied the halls of the monastery, and all the 
beauty of which the gateway suggests much, 
might serve not only as an advertisement to 
the manufacturer, but as an aesthetic blending 
of past idleness with present industry. 

A few market booths stood where many Lol- 
lards had been burned and where William Tils- 
worth, during the reign of the seventh Henry, 



352 Ways and Days Out of London 

was, for the simple offense of advising people 
to read the Bible in English, condemned by the 
Bishop of Lincoln to be executed, his sinless 
daughter being compelled to light his pyre. 

" I hope," Diana said, " there is somewhere 
a list of the men and women whose lives have 
been more cruel than death, who have played 
the game bravely and patiently from start to 
finish! A peculiar supercanonization is due 
them." 

An uncompromising lamp-post now arro- 
gantly occupies the spot where the fair Elea- 
nor cross stood to be martyred in revolutionary 
times. 

" The marvel is," Sonia mused, " not that 
lamp-posts and straw factories exist, but that 
any of the old stones should yet remain one 
upon another, so many times in the history of 
this land have lawlessness and lust for destruc- 
tion been given free rein." 

Our host at the Red Lion recommended 
that we drive up on the Downs before pro- 
ceeding northward. 

" Our language as spoken by the English 
retains strong traces of its Teutonic ancestry. 
We go up on the Downs; we come out of an 
inn ; certain trains ' stop to set down, but not 
to take up,' and the prefix that in German we 
have to hold in our hand until the end of the 



Dunstable and Fenny Stratford 353 

sentence whereon we can hang it comes; an, 
aufy hinter, nehen, hin " 

Sonia, always ready for a laugh, unduly en- 
couraged her friend's lingual fldnerie; but 
along came a sturdy cob harnessed to the 
" wagon " we had bespoken. We bade a cor- 
dial good-by to our host, drove under Charles 
I's chamber, and proceeded up on the Downs. 
The intense whiteness of the chalk showing 
here and there amid the flower-studded grass 
was a novelty to us, who had never seen the 
Shakspeare Cliff at Dover. Some interesting 
remains we saw of British earthworks; and 
from the top of the Downs the town spread 
pleasantly among broad fields. 

Like a slender white arrow the great Roman 
road pointed northward as we rumbled along 
toward Fenny Stratford — the second Strat- 
ford of our acquaintance, and we had not yet 
been to that on the Avon. There was no dust 
and the steps of our steed rang rhythmically 
on the flint. We marveled at meeting so few 
motors on so perfect a highway. A deep cut- 
ting in the chalk just beyond Dunstable had 
been made to level a hill. The broad rolling 
landscape beyond it was animated here and 
there by farm life. The farmhouses and barns 
nearly all had what Diana captioned " long- 
haired roofs." Sometimes we mistook hay- 



354 Ways and Days Out of London 

ricks for houses, so similar were they in color, 
shape and size. " The only difference," de- 
clared Sonia, " is that the houses sometimes 
have chimneys and windows." 

" What a pity," sighed Diana, *' that we 
did not come a century ago by stage coach 
on this Great North Road! We might have 
traveled from London to Chester for forty 
shillings and have enjoyed eight days like 
this, just driving comfortably along a fine 
road." 

" I think I should even like to have been a 
British maiden, peeping from the forest at the 
army of Csesar or Suetonius, glittering with 
polished helmets and spears, flashing gay col- 
ors and sounding like the rustling of a mighty 
forest as the legions of infantry marched, or, 
with its chariots and battering rams drawn by 
splendidly caparisoned Roman horses, rum- 
bling like a summer storm. I wish the world 
had not turned quite so fast ! " 

Some of the old posting inns still remain 
beside the way; but they have fallen into de- 
crepitude and instead of bustling postboys 
and unctuous host, the proprietor now tilts 
back against the wall in a kitchen chair, watch- 
ing the motors dart past or taking an afternoon 
nap. 

Brickhill Church, high above the road, has a 




The deep red of a bridge took on a deeper tone in its 

mirror, the canal. 



Dunstable and Fenny Stratford 355 

fine tower. A long gradual climb brought us 
to the top of a hill from which the view should 
have been immortalized by Constable, Gains- 
borough, old Crome, or our own compatriot, 
George Inness. At the base of this hill the 
Roman road is lost in the curve of a modern 
one; but the straight line which proclaims the 
ancient highway is recovered about a mile 
south of Fennv Stratford. 

At the Swan in this village we were hos- 
pitably received, almost as though we had been 
here before. Tea was serv^ed to us "vvith home- 
made gooseberry jam and a great plate of but- 
tered bread. Phyllis, the pretty daughter of 
the landlord and his ladv, hovered near to an- 
ticipate and supply our needs. Afterwards 
she showed us her garden, sweet with lavender 
and rosemary, and gay ^vith hollyhocks and 
larkspur. We had little time before the " fly " 
should come to drive us to the railway station ; 
but thanks to the sweet and gracious PhylHs, 
who escorted us, we had a walk tlirough the 
lush meadows and along the canal, which is 
here, as elsewhere in England, beautiful as a 
river and at this time was free from traffic, 
although that could not have detracted from 
its charm in the late afternoon. Long shadows 
were athwart the fields, thrown by the low, 
ruddy sun ; the deep red of a bridge took on a 



356 Ways and Days Out of London 

still deeper tone in its mirror, the canal. The 
soft air and circling swallows evoked in us at 
once a sense of peace and of irritation, since 
we must leave it all at this hour of subtle en- 
chantment and return again to London. 







CHAPTER XIX 



Canterbury 

SINCE Geoffrey Chaucer wrote of Canter- 
bury, so many books have appeared, so 
many lectures have been given, and so many 
highly colored tales have we heard from travel- 
ers, that this humble pen falters when rush- 
ing in where the prerogative is, as it were, 
angelic. Yet unless one has seen Canterbury 
what avails aught that has been written, pic- 
tured, or said ? 

Many weeks had wafted away since the wild 
iris had challenged us to fare forth from Lon- 
don into England. Our days had been widely 
diversified, but invariably full of pleasure and 
— we believed — of profit. There seemed, 
moreover, no prospect of exhausting the possi- 
bilities for day trips; and now the time had 
come when all social " obligations " had been 

357 



358 Ways and Days Out of London 

" satisfied," when London was uncomfortably 
hot, and the West End had begun to look ac- 
tually empty. Our friends were leaving town, 
and at length we determined upon seeing some 
of the places we had deemed indispensable 
when, midway across the sea, our summer of 
travel in Great Britain was being planned. 
The Norfolk Broads now being our bourne 
and but one more day flight from London left 
to us, the pros and cons of Haslemere, Tun- 
bridge Wells, and Canterbury were seriously 
discussed. A coin could not be " flipped " 
for a choice of three places, so we drew 
lots and Canterbury, to our mutual satisfac- 
tion, won. 

At first we were a little disheartened, for in 
our ears rang remembered rhapsodies of 
friends: " The quaintest old town! " " the most 
primitive place you ever saw!" "absolutely 
unspoiled by modern innovations! " We had 
entered the station 'bus of the Royal Fountain 
Hotel, knowing by experience that the greatest 
economy of time, energy, and errors in direc- 
tion is attained by driving from the railway to 
the center of a town. We passed under the 
West Gate which had been postcardally known 
to us for years. But for this the city of Can- 
terbury was, as we saw it thus far, wholly 
modern and unprepossessing. 




We spied the Cathedral beyond Mercery Lane. 



Canterbury 359 

American automobiles were everywhere, 
their occupants displaying a singular lack of 
manners. We had encountered but few of our 
compatriots during the summer; and now we 
were very much ashamed of ourselves for wish- 
ing to shun these loud-voiced and money-pro- 
claiming neighbors. We were glared at as we 
passed through the hotel corridors; groups of 
them blockaded the street door; and we heard 
them lauding everything American from cock- 
tails to carbureters, and criticising everything 
English as old fogy and behind the times. 
Nothing, however, but Canterbury herself 
could have marred our day; and the charm of 
Canterbury became ineffable once we accepted 
the modernity her buildings of necessity ex- 
pressed. This very condition merely served to 
heighten the effect of her many reminders of 
ancient past. 

The cathedral was, naturally, our first quest. 
From the door of our hotel we spied it beyond 
the narrow Mercery Lane, over which leaned 
an old white house whose vv^indows gave it a 
grotesque expression as of a mild monster 
guarding vast treasure. This proved to be the 
famous Chequers Inn. 

The beautiful west front was, alas! done up 
in splints and we were informed by a guide 
who wished to conduct us about the town and 



360 Ways and Days Out of London 

cathedral just how many thousand pounds 
" westerhng " the scaffolding had cost. 

" I am afraid," said Diana, patiently smil- 
ing, " this interests us less than the cathedral's 
fa9ade. Thank you very much! we shall not 
require a guide." He stood open-mouthed and 
silent at having encountered Americans who 
were not interested in money. 

The great nave was vibrant with organ tones 
as we entered ; and a service was beginning in 
" the glorious choir of Conrad." The rich roll 
of the organ, the clear boyish voices, and a 
deeper one intoning prayers, served to put 
us in perfect harmony with the splendid 
vastness of the edifice. We were too far 
from the worshippers to participate in the 
service ; so we allowed our thoughts to wander 
freelv. 

Becket ! 

This is the dominant, the predominating 
stimulus to reverie and to memory in Canter- 
bury Cathedral. The service concluded, on 
payment of the sixpence requisite in English 
cathedrals for seeing the choir and apse, and 
on signing our names in the visitors' book, we 
were admitted beyond the gates with a troop 
of English and American tourists and con- 
ducted by a verger past the many chapels of 
wondrous beauty and tombs of deepest human 



Canterbury 361 

interest. As we became aware of the great 
names on the monuments Sonia said: 

" It seems to me that all the folk who were 
not buried in Westminster are here. Dunstan, 
Stephen Langton, Henry IV, the Black Prince 
— what tremendous epochs of history we are 
touching simultaneously ! " 

" The kings are in the Abbey, their prime 
ministers here," whispered Diana. " Lan- 
franc, Anselm, Simon of Sudbury; and this 
broken effigy of Hubert Walter takes us to 
Acre with Richard Plantagenet.'* 

Of the Black Prince we mused while the va- 
cant voice of the verger at the head of the 
" party " droned its rote. What had the for- 
tunes of Crecy been but for the rain that sof- 
tened the bowstrings of France's Genoese mer- 
cenaries? How much sooner had a French 
king ruled o'er Britain? " Let him win his 
spurs I" the Enghsh king had cried, proudly 
watching his sixteen-year-old son until the lad's 
efforts gave England the day. Then before 
the whole army, Edward, for the moment more 
father than king, embraced the boy and said: 
'* Sweet son, God give you good perseverance; 
you are my true son — right royally you have 
acquitted yourself this day, and you are worthy 
of a crown." Ten years later came Poitiers, 
another decade and Najara, the zenith of the 



362 Ways and Days Out of London 

young knight's career; and at the conclusion of 
yet another the flower of EngHsh chivalry died 
— ignominiously, no doubt it seemed to such a 
warrior — in his bed. 

" Now, if somebody had stabbed him in the 
back, I suppose there would have been another 
English saint in the calendar," murmured 
Diana. 

" The funeral procession that bore his body 
from Westminster Abbey, where it had lain in 
state nearly four months, proclaimed the grief 
of the whole nation for the loss of an almost 
idolized prince. Twelve black horses drew the 
hearse, and behind it came both houses of Par- 
liament in deep mourning — a fitting finale to 
the career of le Prince Noir. Why has none 
written of what was said and done on that Can- 
terbury pilgrimage? 

John of Gaunt and William of Wykeham 
stood among the mourners in the flare of the 
mortuary candles before the high altar of the 
cathedral, as did also Archbishop Simon of 
Sudbury, little knowing that he was destined 
to be beheaded by Wat Tyler on Tower Hill in 
London and that the next funeral of impor- 
tance to be celebrated before this altar would 
be his own ! 

They had respected the prince's wish that he 
be interred in Canterbury Cathedral; but the 



Canterbury 363 

center of the crypt which he had chosen for a 
resting place was not deemed worthy the na- 
tion's hero, and therefore this splendid tomb 
was placed near the shrine of St. Thomas 
where all pilgrims might see it. The gilding 
and color that once richly adorned it can now 
be only imagined; and the gauntlets, shield, 
scabbard, and coat pendant for hundreds of 
years above his efiigy have lost all character 
and suggestiveness. Where — oh, where are the 
gold spurs so splendidly won at Crecy? All 
the evil that he did was interred with the bones 
of gallant Prince Edward. The good alone 
lives after him, as is often the case; though a 
difference of opinion with the author of the 
plays Lord Verulam did not write is reluctant- 
ly and apologetically expressed. It is interest- 
ing to note that Welsh antiquaries consider ich 
dien, which has been the motto of the Prince 
of Wales since then, to be a Celtic synonym for 
ecce homo; for when his infant son was pre- 
sented to the people of his patronymic the 
Black Prince had used it as meaning : " Be- 
hold the man ! " 

The little inclosure known as the " Martyr- 
dom " was so incarnate to Sonia with memories 
of Irving's acting and of Tennyson's drama, 
" Becket," that she with difficulty restrained 
the emotions that welled up in this very theater 



364 Ways and Days Out of London 

of that bloody deed. Diana knew somewhat of 
Becket's chiaro'scuro pubhc career, with its 
dazzling brilliancy, its hyper-austerity despite 
the indomitable pride that was the cause of his 
undoing; and therefore we stood aside while 
the guide babbled and the trippers gawped 
over the little square in the paving left by the 
stone of marytrdom which was sent to Rome. 
We tried not to think hardly of the four " gen- 
tlemen " who believed they were serving their 
king — because he had querulously cried, " Will 
no one rid me of this man? " — by hacking 
England's primate to death as he knelt un- 
armed and unresisting, after that one fiercely 
human attack on his murderers. We tried to 
forget the torn scalp, the brains and blood scat- 
tered on the floor, by thinking of the people 
who thought the blood precious. Then we pic- 
tured that awesome scene in the choir when the 
hair shirt, writhing with vermin, and the great 
welts across the back from the daily meed of 
*' stripes," were discovered — grimly humorous 
evidences of eligibility for canonization. The 
verger then conducted us down to the crypt 
and we saw in fancy Henry's late repentance 
for that Berserker-Plantagenet rage with his 
once dear friend. 

The Black Prince is only known to have 
been once in Canterbury; but the impression 



Canterbury 365 

it made was deep in his memory. A little me- 
morial chapel in the crypt bears his name. 
This was a tribute to his marriage with his 
cousin Joan, the Fair Maid of Kent. Two 
priests were appointed to pray here for his soul 
until death and after. 

"Why did they not pray for Joan, too?" 
queried Sonia. 

This little chapel is now the vestibule to the 
chapel of the French congregation, the na- 
tion so closely associated with his life. To 
the Chapter of Canterbury he gave in ex- 
change for permission to found this chapel 
the manor of Fawke's Hall. Of " Fawke " 
we know nothing; but his name shall live 
as long as London endures, in Vauoc- 

hall. 

Becket's murder "made" Canterbury, ca- 
thedral and city, and dimmed forever the glory 
of the Augustinian monastery. It also out- 
shone St. Etheldreda's at Ely and other popu- 
lar shrines, as, for instance, St. Edmund's and 
St. Alban's. The shrine of St. Thomas of 
Canterbury became a devotional and nomadic 
fashion ; and subshrines bearing his name were 
erected at Lyons, Sens, and St. Lo, and even 
in Syria. In Great Britain were innumerable 
" branch " shrines as well as the great one at 
Canterbury. Each displayed a treasured boot, 



366 Ways and Days Out of London 

drinking cup, drop of blood, girdle, or bit of 
cloth from a garment that had been his. The 
shrine at Canterbury was in the form of a chest, 
studded with iron nails and secured by strong 
iron locks. This was inclosed in a sort of casket 
made of wood heavily overlaid with gold, 
" damasked with gold wire and embossed with 
innumerable pearls, jewels, and rings, cramped 
together on this gold ground." This was con- 
cealed in turn under a wooden cover whose sides 
were painted with suitable subjects. When 
the pilgrims had made their slow circuit of the 
cathedral and crypt, pausing times without 
number to salute with their lips relics inclosed 
in coffers of gold, silver, or ivory, for those 
who were sufficiently privileged the outer cover 
of the shrine was lifted by a rope from above. 
The knees which had hitched the pilgrims up 
many steps were again called into requisition 
as silver bells proclaimed throughout the build- 
ing the fact that the precious shrine was un- 
covered. A rare few were permitted to mount 
a ladder and peep at the inner iron chest. 
While the votaries remained kneeling and 
open-mouthed at such glitter as their simple 
lives could not supply, a factotum with a taper- 
ing white wand pointed out to them the jewels, 
naming the givers of each and the cost. Diana 
says she knows the guide whom we encoun- 



Canterbury 367 

tered outside the cathedral is a lineal descendant 
of one of these " demonstrators." 

The holy relics each man with his mouth 

Kissed as a goodly monk the names told and taught. 

" Fancy kissing the broken sword with which 
Le Bret did his dreadful deed! " 

" I am glad the hair shirt was hung up and 
not proffered to the lips of the worshippers. I 
wonder if it had been fumigated? " 

We liked the story of the white carbuncle, 
as large as a hen's Qgg, which had been unlaw- 
fully " annexed " by the saint from a French 
king, Louis VII, as he knelt before the shrine. 

" The king had come thither to discharge 
a vow made in battle, and knelt at the shrine 
with the stone set in a ring on his finger." 

" Fancy wearing a hen's egg on one finger! 
He must have had a Brobdignagian hand." 

The archbishop, who was present, coveted 
the jewel — for the saint — and entreated Louis 
to present it to the shrine. So costly a gift was 
too much of a sacrifice for the royal pilgrim, 
" especially as it insured him good luck in all 
his enterprises. Still, as a compensation, he of- 
fered a hundred thousand florins for the better 
adornment of the shrine. The prunate was 
fully satisfied " ; but scarcely had the pilgrim's 
refusal been uttered " when the stone leapt from 



368 Ways and Days Out of London 

the ring, and fastened itself to the shrine, as 
if a goldsmith had fixed it there." The unfor- 
tunate king also left the hundred thousand 
florins ; and it is presumable that, like Dr. Fos- 
ter, " he never went there again." The jewel 
was the bright particular star of the whole col- 
lection, and was said to have been dazzlingly 
brilliant by daj^ — so much so that the eye could 
scarce endure its rays — and at night it put the 
altar lamps, as it were, in the shade. An angel, 
— whether real or artificial deponent sayeth 
not, — continually pointed to this wondrous 
jewel, (called the " Regale of France,") which 
must have been supererogative, since its bright- 
ness compelled one to look and yet by this very 
brilliancy forbade compliance. 

There was a royal entertainment of great 
chromatic splendor in Canterbury when the 
young king Henry VIII received the Em- 
peror Charles V at Dover on a Whitsunday 
morning, and escorted him upon the Watling 
Street to the Gate of St. George, the two kings 
entering the city under the same haldacchino. 
Wolsey preceded them, and English nobles in 
full regalia pranced beside those of Spain. 
This brilliant procession passed through lines of 
clergy in ecclesiastical robes, and at the cathe- 
dral, where they dismounted with a great clat- 
ter, Archbishop Warham met the distinguished 



Canterbury 369 

party, which was not, we trust, halted at the 
choir gate for the paying of sixpence per capita 
or the writing of names in a visitors' book. 

Just eighteen years later the good saint was 
publicly summoned by royal command to ap- 
pear and show cause whereby he should not 
be adjudged guilty of " treason, contumacy, 
and rebellion." Beside the shrine this was read 
and thirty days were accorded to St. Thomas 
for the gathering together of his scattered 
bones, blood and garments. Evidently he was 
disinclined to leave the security and impor- 
tance of his present position. Did he not know 
how faithless kings could be? Rather suffer 
unjust accusation in silence, though it be inter- 
preted as an admission of guilt. The case was 
actually argued with due formality at West- 
minster Palace, and with proper accompani- 
ment of attorneys for prosecution and defense. 
Like stage duels and circus races, everybody 
knew who would win ; sentence was pronounced 
" that his bones should be publicly burnt, and 
that offerings made at the shrine should be for- 
feited to the crown." Lucky crown! 

The royal commissioners came with nippers 
and daintily picked out the jewels that were 
imbedded in the covering of the shrine. It 
was like the crow, perching " upon his bare 
backbone and pluck (ing) his eyes out one by 



370 Ways and Days Out of London 

one." On Henry's fat breast the Regale of 
France gleamed thereafter until he gave it to 
his daughter Mary, who had it set in a golden 
necklace. 

" Why is it not now in existence? How I 
should love to see it! " thus Sonia. 

" Perhaps when the carbuncle came to Eliza- 
beth her jeweler squinted at it through his 
little glass and announced that it was ' re- 
constructed.' That is apt to be the fate of 
heirlooms." 

Whether the comet-like visit of Erasmus and 
Dean Colet to Canterbury directly influenced 
the Reformation or not, they were the first 
who openly scorned the notion that curative 
powers exist in old clothes or dead men's shoes. 
And doubt has destroyed the sanctity of many 
a shrine, the value of many an Old JNIaster. 
So sweeping was the housecleaning at Canter- 
bury that even the arms of the city and cathe- 
dral were altered ; and not only was the shrine 
of St. Thomas utterly demolished, but an order 
went forth through the land that everything 
relating to the saint should be destroyed. 
From historical and legal documents his name 
was erased, from illuminated missals and church 
prayer books ; statues and pictures vanished to 
limbo, but this is all significant of royal and 
religious ignorance of man's inability to obHt- 




A sivift intake of breath; and then loe both said '"Oh!''' 



Canterbury 371 

erate from the book of life the name of a per- 
sonality so powerful as that of Thomas a 
Becket. 

We walked about the beautiful cloisters 
and thence emerged into the spacious grounds 
that constitute the cathedral inclosure. So 
many and so great are the beauties of this 
Queen of England's ministers that we were 
suddenly bereft of adjectives, and in silence 
strolled about, allowing our senses to steep in 
the atmosphere that varied from moment to 
moment as widely as do the lines of Bell Harry 
Tower, the Baptistry, " St. Thomas's Crown," 
St. Anselm's Tower, and the disabled West 
Front. Our first glance at the Baptistry pro- 
duced a swift intake of breath, and a subse- 
quent "Oh!" The Prior's Gateway beyond 
the famous Dark Entry was a pleasantly sur- 
prising bit of ruin. We were astonished to 
find after a long hunt that the Norman Stair- 
case is not a part of the cathedral, but leads to 
the upper part of the King's School, founded 
during the seventh century, which although in 
the cathedral precincts is some distance from 
where we had expected to find it. 

Of the priory St. Augustine founded very 
little remains but records and tradition. The 
modern and not very beautiful gateway se- 
cludes the Missionary College, which was built 



372 Ways and Days Out of London 

on a part of the Augustinian site, and was 
erected — of ugly round Kentish flints — about 
sixty years ago, a brewery having preempted 
the position ever since the Reformation. Vis- 
itors being required to follow a guide, we lost 
much valuable time in seeing what we did not 
wish to see. Somehow the old Guest Hall of 
Tudor or earlier day escaped destruction by 
both reformers and brewers, and although mod- 
ernized to meet the gustatory requirements of 
incipient missionaries to other lands, the fine 
oaken roof remains unchanged. 

A part of St. Ethelbert's Tower is about all 
of the ancient abbey that is standing. The cit- 
izens of Canterbury have not displayed much 
conservatism or reverence for the skill of their 
architectural predecessors. When building 
materials were needed as the city grew larger, 
the simple and labor-saving method of em- 
ploying pickaxe and crowbar on the city walls 
and the remaining portions of St. Augustine's 
Abbey or the castle — any of the " good-for- 
nothing " old ramshackle remains that were 
so plentiful — was much more economical and 
praktisch than buying new stuff. Besides, the 
town ought to be cleared up, anyhow I 

Recent excavations of an extensive nature 
have revealed vast foundations of the ancient 
Abbey church, of which much more is likely to 



Canterbury 373 

be discovered ere the work is completed. Diana 
delighted in a few mason marks she found on 
some of the oldest stones. We stood aside 
again from the group of trippers, who repre- 
sent the large class of persons who like to swal- 
low ready-made information and ideas rather 
than to do any individual thinking. The foun- 
dations disclosed near by are of St. Pancras's 
church, which had originally been a British 
place of worship, and subsequently the abode 
of Saxon deities. It was given to Augustine 
by Ethelbert and converted to Christian uses. 
While Gregory was a monk in the monastery 
of St. Andrew on one of Rome's seven hills, 
and had not yet been called the Great, but had 
newly uttered the famous words, " Non Angli 
sed angeli " of the little EngHsh boy slaves, a 
great desire came to him to go to the mysterious 
and magnetic northern land whose people had 
golden hair and blue eyes, and convert it to his 
form of religious belief. He set forth without 
papal permission; but after three days' jour- 
neying he accepted the lighting of a locust on 
his book during a roadside rest as a sign. Loco 
sta, he interpreted as a heavenly indication that 
he must go no farther; and at the same moment 
breathless messengers from the pope overtook 
him, requiring his return to Rome. 

" I wonder what would have happened to 



374 Ways and Days Out of London 

the history of England if a bee or a mosquito 
had hghted on his book? " said Diana, the 
irreverent. 

Gregory, however, never forgot his interest 
in Albion; and soon after becoming pope he 
chose from the Convent of St. Andrew the 
monk Augustine, whom he sent with forty 
other of the brothers on the mission he had 
been compelled to relintjuish. AVhere Hengist 
and Horsa had descended on the Isle of 
Thanet from their ships the Roman mission- 
aries stepped for the first time on the shore 
of the coveted land. A messenger was sent 
to Ethelbert, King of Kent, whose court was 
at Canterbury. The king — although Bertha 
his French wife was a Christian — was a little 
fearful of these new arrivals and bade them re- 
main oa the island, with the Stour flowing 
between it and the mainland, so that if their 
methods of conversion were of a magical nature 
the water would serve as a non-conductor and 
protect the people of Britain. Finally, a meet- 
ing was arranged, and the king stipulating that 
it must not be 'neath a roof, the " Son of the 
Ash-tree " with his flaxen-haired Saxon giants 
about him bravely faced, at Ebbes Fleet, the 
brown-garbed band of brothers who had no 
swords but came up the hill bearing a huge 
silver cross and a big colored and gilded picture 



Canterbury 375 

of the Savior, the while they chanted a Grego- 
rian htany. The missionaries were thereafter 
permitted to proceed to Canterbury and ere 
long the king allowed them to worship in St. 
JVIartin's church which had been erected for the 
queen. Ethelbert's baptism was celebrated on 
Whitsunday 597; and that day the Church of >/i/to u> U^' 
England was born. Probably this is why ^^Ti/ij/^ 
Whit-Monday'Tias always been a national •*■ * «" ■ "« » 
holiday. ://" iun^cu^ ^ ^-^CtJ 

We came later in the day to St. Martin's, ^^^ 
which is claimed to be the oldest church in Eng;- :t' • 
land ; but its boast is shared by several others. 
This little church is set on a low hill from which 
a fair view extends over the nether wealds of 
Kent. The heavy twisted stems of the ivy in 
which St. ]\Iartin's is wrapt look as old as the 
Roman bricks incorporated in the walls. A 
little pointed Saxon door is called St. Au- 
gustine's; and perhaps the great preacher did 
pass in and out thereby. 

" Let us believe so," Sonia said, " it is pleas- 
anter to believe than to doubt." 

An old font is shown which, if not that in 
which Ethelbert was baptized, is probably a 
faithful replica. The ancient tomb said to be 
Queen Bertha's has cause.1 some dispute 
among fussy antiquarians; but this was her 
church, dedicate to St. Martin of Tours, and if 



376 Ways and Days Out of London 

she lies beside her lord under St. Augustine's 
Abbey, this may, nevertheless, be a monument 
to her erected at the time of her death. 

Soon after the consecration of St. Augustine 
as Archbishop of Canterbury the first English 
cathedral was erected; but almost no trace re- 
mains of its original form, that of St. Peter's 
at Rome. The generous Ethelbert was ob- 
sessed with a desire for yet more churches in 
the Kentish capital. He gave Augustine land 
for a monastery which should accommodate a 
vast number of clergy imported from Rome to 
instruct the people of this island, who must be 
taught in their own language. While the new 
abbey and church were being erected the monks 
worshipped in the old heathen temple they 
dedicated to St. Pancras. At last the great 
Roman missionary was buried beside the Wat- 
ling Street, which had been made by his pagan 
ancestors five hundred years before his coming. 

Canterbury contains several interesting old 
churches in addition to St. Pancras's and St. 
Martin's. St. Alphege's we sought out be- 
cause of the story of him in whose memory it 
was erected. Al^^hege, who was Archbishop 
of Canterbury when it was sacked by the Danes 
in 1011, was taken prisoner by them and con- 
ducted to their camp at Greenwich, where after 
seven months' captivit)'^ he was put to death. 



Canterbury 377 

St. Mildred's has large blocks of oolite from 
some Roman building incorporated into the 
quoins of the south wall of the nave. Izaac 
Walton was married in St. Mildred's. An 
ancient archway and tower on which we hap- 
pened about midway between the cathedral 
and St. Martin's we presumed to be all that 
remains of the church of St. Mary Magdalen. 
There were friars of orders gray, black, and 
white established in Canterbury. Of the Gray 
Friars' abode a picturesque bit exists, span- 
ning with double arch a small stream. As 
early as 1100 Bishop Anselm founded a nun- 
nery for a prioress and five nuns, which he dedi- 
cated to St. Sepulchre. This nunnery's name 
is chiefly remembered because of a certain 
epileptic, nervous, religious fanatic who was 
for a few years a member of the household. 
Elizabeth Barton was a tavern servant in Al- 
dington, a Kentish village. Suddenly she de- 
veloped a propensity for seeing visions, and 
dreaming dreams which were extraordinary. 
Her hallucinations she confessed to her priest, 
Richard Masters, who violated his office and 
told of her confession, his confidant being 
Canon Bockling of Canterbury. Bockling 
passed the good word along to Archbishop 
Warham, who sent the canon to Aldington to 
" investigate." Elizabeth's dreams were ad- 



378 Ways and Days Out of London 

vertised by the clergy as divine revelations, and 
people flocked in hundreds to see the " Holy 
INIaid of Kent." jMany a hectic scene was 
enacted by her for the public delectation. She 
became so accomplished that she could summon 
visions " to order," and could see and hear just 
what the reverend fathers desired she should. 
At this time England was convulsed with ex- 
citement over Henry's divorce from Catherine, 
and the prophetess had something direct from 
headquarters to predict concerning the pro- 
jected marriage with Anne. She declared that 
she had received a letter from Mary Magdalen 
written in gold ink which informed her that if 
the king married Mistress Bullen he would die 
within seven montlis. She was especially en- 
couraged and stimulated, perhaps remuner- 
ated, by the Observants, who were zealous op- 
ponents of the marriage. Even Sir Thomas 
More took her seriously and corresponded with 
her — in gold ink also? At length the king 
awoke to the situation, and summoned her with 
]\Iasters and Bockling before Parliament, 
which promptly sentenced them all to be exe- 
cuted. She was beheaded at Tyburn in 1534. 
Among the fine Tudor buildings in Canter- 
bury is St. John's Hospital, which is best seen 
from the garden side. The Canterbury 
" Weavers " everybody sees, for it is the most 



Canterbury 379 

picturesque bit of architecture along the High 
Street. One side of it overhangs the River 
Stour. The art of weaving was for three cen- 
turies one of Canterbury's chief sources of in- 
come. The Huguenot and Walloon refugees 
brought their craft with them and this little 
city profited thereby, just as Colchester was 
the richer for the bays and says manufacture. 
Then, during the early part of the nineteenth 
century the industry almost died; but now an 
effort has been made to revive it, and this 
beautiful old building has been successfully 
restored to meet the weavers' requirements 
and to delight the eye of every visitor to Can- 
terbury. 

The city wall with twenty-one watch towers 
and six gates that had been given to the city of 
Canterbury by Archbishop Simon of Sudbury, 
whom Wat Tyler murdered, now hides many 
of its fragmentary remnants behind houses, 
stables and fences. The only considerable por- 
tion that we could find is that which curves 
outward to avoid the green mound called Dane 
John, not far from the cattle market which we 
beheld full of sturdy Kentish wethers. The 
wall, it seems, has been gradually removed by 
those same citizens of Canterbury who stood in 
need of building material. The brewery hap- 
pily was redeemed; but who shall save Canter- 



380 Ways and Days Out of London 

bury Castle from the local gas company by 
which it is used as a " coal bunk "? This was 
for centuries a stronghold for the city's pro- 
tection and was to Canterbury what Dover's 
castle was to the channel port. Its keep was 
the third largest in England; and now — it is 
like Mary's lamb after a visit to Pittsburg. 

" What is Dane John? " asked Sonia. " It 
looks like a large-size British barrow. I won- 
der if they have ever had gumption enough to 
open it and see if it contained anything interest- 
ing?" We searched through our guidebooks 
and found that the origin of the name is not 
known, though its form has often varied, Dan- 
zil, Dauzon, Daungron, Dungeon, being a few 
of its variations. Dane John may have been 
used for defense of the city. 

" Why not a beacon? " Diana hazarded. 
" There are no natural hills near by." The 
hideous shaft is a recent addition; but since 
time immemorial the mound has been sur- 
rounded by a park. During repairs made to 
the wall a few years ago some bones, flint 
arrowheads, Roman ornaments and bits of 
mosaic were found near the base. 

A stone dwelling on a corner not very far 
from the cathedral bears a sign, " Lady Woot- 
on's Green-House," whatever that may be. 
The side wall of the house — wliich is not green 



Canterbury 381 

— is a most interesting admixture of archi- 
tectural periods, in the form of doors and 
windows. 

The Stour, which gave to Canterbury its 
Celtic name, meaning *' Stronghold in the 
marsh," is constantly appearing in unexpected 
places. We had found St. Mildred's Church, 
again the Gray Friars', and yet again the 
Weavers beside or over it. 

Mercery Lane is still the chief place in which 
to purchase souvenirs of Canterbury, although 
these now bear no resemblance to those which 
were sold in vast numbers to pilgrims to the 
shrine of St. Thomas. The lane then was a 
double line of arcades like those now in Bern 
and the Rows in Chester. The present de- 
lightful top-heavy houses are of Tudor times. 
Under these arcades the vendors displayed 
their wares. This was a custom which had de- 
veloped from older shrines, St. Etheldreda's — 
commonly called St. Awdrey's — at Ely, espe- 
cially. At length cheap lace, tinsel ornaments, 
and other claptrap, much of which is still sold 
at expositions and county fairs, was denomi- 
nated " tawdry " by the people of good taste 
because at the shrine of St. Awdrey such sales 
had their beginning in England. The chief 
stock in trade at Canterbury were " signs " to 
be fastened on the hat as indicative of having 



382 Ways and Days Out of London 

made the pilgrimage, just as returning cru- 
saders had a bit of palm leaf in their caps. The 
signs sold at Canterbury were usually " leaden 
brooches representing the mitred head of the 
saint, with the inscription, ' Caput Thomae.' " 

As manner and custom is, signs there they bought, 
For men of contre to know whom they had sought. 
Each man set his silver in such thing as they liked. 

Once the sacred relics had been duly saluted 
the pilgrim was free to make merry; and the 
vast cellars under the " Chekers of the Hope 
that every man doth know " amply aided in 
supplying good cheer. Several other inns en- 
dure, in name if not in actual construction. The 
Falstaff, whose flamboyant sign we had seen 
as we came from the railway station, cannot 
legitimately claim so great an age as the Royal 
Fountain which was mentioned in 1299 as the 
best in Canterbury, and which claims to have 
housed the mother of King Harold in 1029, to 
have been the residence of Lanfranc while his 
palace was being rebuilt in 1070, and even to 
have been the rendezvous of the four *' gentle- 
men " who murdered Becket. 

One of Becket's shoes was preserved at 
HarbledowTi, a little village about two miles 
from Canterbury, which afforded pilgrims op- 
portunity for resting under the trees, drinking 



Canterbury 383 

from the well, and kissing the sacred shoe. 
This is the story, but as Lanfranc was the 
founder of the church and " hospital " at Har- 
bledown, the shoe may not have been one of 
Becket's, although it served as good a purpose 
to the faithful pilgrims. We drove out to 
Harbledown, where at the door of the little 
church that is o'ertopped by an ancient yew, 
we were met by a benevolent old man whose 
personality was even more interesting than the 
information he gave us anent his church and 
the St. Nicholas almshouses which are snugly 
settled below it, among bright flower borders, 
the gray walls showing between ragged out- 
lines of clambering roses and ivy. Behind the 
almshouses is the famous old well which is 
called the " Black Prince's Well," wherefrom 
the young man had slaked his thirst, and to 
which he sent messengers for water as he lay 
dying many years afterward. Over the well, 
which nestles among tall ferns and overhang- 
ing branches, has been carved the prince's em- 
blem which he chose for his royal standard 
when he selected " ich dien " for his motto. 
The well had doubtless been one of Lanfranc's 
reasons for selecting this site for the leper hos- 
pital which he founded for returned crusaders 
who came back covered with leprosy rather 
than the glory they had anticipated. The 



Canterbury 385 

Colet and Erasmus, too, when returning 
from Canterbury to London, " found them- 
selves in a descent through a steep and narrow 
lane, with high banks on either side ; on the left 
rose an ancient almshouse. We recognize at 
once the old familiar lazar-house of Harble- 
down ... so picturesque even now in its de- 
cay . . . Down those steps came, according to 
his wont, an aged almsman; and as the two 
horsemen approached, he threw his accustomed 
shower of holy water, and then pressed for- 
ward, holding the upper leather of a shoe, 
bound in a brass rim with a crystal set in the 
center." This was the last straw. They were 
expected to kiss the unpleasant bit of shoe 
leather. Colet spluttered wrathfuUy; but the 
gentle Erasmus gave the old man some money 
and they proceeded on their road, sadder and 
wiser than when they came the other way. 
From Dean Stanley again: " In the old chest 
of the almshouse still remain two relics. . . . 
The one is an ancient maple bowl, bound with 
a brazen rim, which contains a piece of rock 
crystal, so exactly reminding us of that which 
Erasmus describes in the leather of St. 
Thomas's shoe, as to suggest the conjecture 
that when the shoe was lost the crystal was 
thus preserved. The other is a rude box, with 
a chain to be held by the hand, and a slit for 



386 Ways and Days Out of London 

money in the lid, at least as old as the sixteenth 
century. In that box, we can hardly doubt, 
the coin of Erasmus was deposited." 

Another saunter through and around the 
cathedral to cement the morning's impressions 
and the end had come of this our last day on a 
" spoke " from London. 

On the train Diana loosened the string on a 
little packet of purchases. 

" I don't believe I can give away any of 
these things. They mean so much to me ; and 
who else could rightly value them unless they 
had seen Canterbury? I really think our 
friend Gregory the Great was mistaken when 
he said : ' Things are not to be loved for the 
sake of places, but places for the sake of 
things.' " 

" No, he is right. If you did not love the 
things that are in the places you would not love 
the places themselves; and consequently the 
things you bring from the places — Oh, dear! 
how sorry I am that we have not time for more 
days out of London ! " 

Somewhat pensively we looked out from the 
windows of our compartment for fleeting 
glimpses of hop farms, their crops almost ready 
for the picking; meadow brooks aimlessly 
meandering through sinuous lines of bushy 
pollard willows; farms whose red-tiled roofs 



Canterbury 387 

made the thatched ones of Bedfordshire seem 
in some other land. Cloud shadows raced 
northward as fast as we. Were those great 
white cumuli that floated so lightly against the 
blue also feeling the steady magnetism that 
had brought us back so many times from places 
where we should have liked to remain? Would 
they leave London at last as relunctantly as 
we; or would they gently descend among her 
towers, mingle with her atmosphere and lose 
their identity in the embrace of the city that 
loves no man, but is beloved by all who know 
her? 



INDEX 



Abbey Hotel, 197 

Abbey, St. Albans, 160. 163, 164, 

169-171, 263, 304, 306. 307, 

347, 348. 349 
Abbey, St. Augustine's, 372, 376 
Abbey of St. John, 263, 264 
Abbey of St. Peter, 145 
Abbey, Sion, 272 
Abbey, Woburn. 350 
Abbots' Langley, .349 
Adelais of Lorraine, 145 
Adelard, 216 
iEsope, 226 

Agincourt, 74, 156, 313, 325 
Ains worth, Harrison, 212 
Alban, St., 161, 102, 163, 174 
Albany, Duke of, 153 
Albert Chapel, 148 
Albert Embankment, 268 
Albert, Prince, 350 
Albini, William de, 53 
Alcock, Bishop, 112, 132 
Aldington. 377 
Alfred the Atheling, 80 
Alfred the Great, 79, 109 
Alkmund, 284. 285 
Allen, Joseph, 231 
Allej-n, Edward, 223, 225, 226, 

227, 228, 236, 237, 238, 242, 

299, 302 
Alleyn, Edward, list of costumes 

of, 233, 234 



Alleyn, James. 230. 231 

Alleyn, JoanWoodward, 227. 233, 

236 
Alleyn, Simon, Vicar of Bray, 237 
Allin, (see Alleyn) 
Alphege, Archbi.shop, 376 
Amadis of Gaul. 303 
Ambresbury Banks, 210, 211 
Amelia, Princess, 77 
American Velvet Plant, 86 
Amphibalus, 160, 161, 168, 275 
Ampthill, 349 
Angel Hotel, 81 
Anglo-Saxon (see Saxon) 
Anjou, Margaret of, 177 
Anna, King, 108 
Anne of Bohemia, 71 
Anne Bole>-n. (Bullen), 11, 212, 

321, 378 
Anne of Cleves, 53, 73, 332 
Anne of Denmark, 280, 322 
Anne, Queen, 75, 316 
Anselm. Bishop. 377 
Aragonnaise. (see Catherine of 

Aragon) 
Aragon, Catherine of, 310, 314, 

319, 320. 378 
Armada, the, 37 
Arthur King, 250 
Arundell. Lord, 229 
Asclepiodotus, 250 
Ascot, Royal, 57-66, 157, 158 
Athelbrough, 285 



389 



390 



Index 



Atkinson, 235 

Attaboni, Cardinal, 348 

Audley, Lord, 312 

Augustine, St., 45, 108, 371-376 

Augustinian friars, 198, 261 

Aungre, (see Chipping Ongar) 

Austerlitz, 86 

Avershawe, Jerry, 87, 212, 299 

B 

Babiola, (see Brunswick House) 

Backs, the, 123, 124 

Bacon, Francis, (Baron Veru- 

1am), 128, 175, 195, 228, 229, 

241, 363 
Bajazet, Sultan, 313 
Baldwin, Job, 42 
Balkerne Lane, 256 
Balkon Gate, 254 
Ball, John, 172 
Balsham, Hugh de, 119 
Bankside, 223, 224 
"Barks." 26 
Barnes, 270 
Barnes Common, 84 
Bartolozzi, 275 
Barton, Elizabeth, 377, 378 
Bath, Bishop of, 319 
Battersea Park, 269 
Bayeux, Odo Bishop of, 52 
Bays and Says, 259, 379 
Bear Inn, 89, 91 
Beaufort, Cardinal, 306, 307 
Becket, 267, 279, 365, 382 
Becket, St. Thomas a, 360-369 
Bede, 122 

Bedford, 340, 342, 347 
Bedford, Duke of, 350 
Bedfordshire, 339 
"Beds," 334 
Beechey, 241 



Beethoven, 87 

Belle Weir Lock, 31 

Bell Harry Tower, 371 

Bell Inn, 105 

Bells of Ouseley Inn, 30 

Benedictine Monastery, 109 

Benedictine Nunnery of St. 

Rhadegund, 132 
Benham, Canon, 46 
Bentley, Richard, 314 
Beodricksworth, (see St. Ed- 

mundsbury) 
Berkhampstead, 169 
Berks, 26 
Berkshire, 26 

Bermondsey, Priory of 222, 223 
Bertha, Queen, 374, 375, 376 
Big Ben, 268, 298 
Billingsgate, 267 
Bisham Abbey, 198 
Blackfriars, 268 
Blackheath, 310-314 
Black Prince, 361, 362, 363, 364. 

365 
Black Prince's Well, 383 
Blee, Forest of, 384 
Blue Book, 80, 178 
Boadicea, 173, 210, 253 
Bockling, Canon, 377,378 
Bohemia, Anne of, 72 
Bohun, 32 

Boleyn, Anne, 11, 212, 321, 378 
Bond, 232, 240 

Boulter's Lock, 19, 20, 182, 202 
Bourgeois, SirPeter Francis, 238, 

241 
Bourne End, 200 
Bourne Ponds, 264 
Boveny, 26 
Boveny Lock, 26 
Bowling Green, 86 



Index 



391 



Brabant, Duke of, 303, 305 

Brahe, Tycho, 324 

Brandon, Charles, 147 

Bray, 22 

Bray Lock, 22 

Bray Manor, 22 

Bray, Vicar of, 22, 237 

Braybroke, Henry de, 347 

Breakspeare, Nicholas, 176 

Brentford, 272 

Brentford Ferry, 70 

Bret, le, 367 

Bridge, Kingston, 277 

Bridge, London, 260, 267 

Bridge, Maidenhead, 21, 29 

Bridge, Mathematical, 124 

Bridge, Putney, 269 

Bridge, Richmond, 76 

Bridge, Rochester, 50, 56 

Bridge of Sighs, 128 

Bridge, Westminster, 268 

Bridget, Queen of Gypsies, 237 

British (Britons), 16, 52, 173, 

250, 252. 264, 294, 311, 334, 

353, 373, 380 
Broad Walk, 11, 277 
Brompton Cemetery, 159, 244 
Brompton Road, 4 
Browning, Robert, 299 
Bruce, Robert, 50 
Brunswick House, 311 
Buccleuch, Duke of, 78 
Buccleuch House, 78 
Buckingham, Duke of, 264, 278 
Buckinghamshire, 26 
"Bucks," 26 
Bull Inn, 54 
Bullen, (see Boleyn) 
Burbage, 232, 240, 280 
Burgundy, Duke of, 304, 305 
Burlington, Earl of, 271 



Bume-Jones, 120, 144 
Bumham Abbey, 147 
Burnham Beeches, 142, 143 
Bury (see St. Edmundsbury) 
Bushey Park, 277, 282 
Butler, 336 
Byron, 128 



Cabal, 275 

Cade, Jack. 312 

Caesar, Julius, 43, 44, 114. 147, 

165, 173, 251, 252, 354 
Caesar's Tower, 211 
Caius College, 128, 132 
Calton, Sir Francis, 223, 226 2^7 
Calton. Thomas, 223 
Cam River, 123, 126 
Camberwell Road, 299 
Cambridge, 103, 116-136, 205, 

329 
Cambridge Road, 213 
Cambridgeshire, 105 
Campeius, Cardinal, 314 
Camulodonum (see Colchester) 
Candy, King of, 151 
Canterbury, 43, 47, 357-387 
Canterbury bells, 35, 384 
Canterbury Castle, 372. 380 
Canterbury Cathedral, 359-371, 

376 
Canterbury, St. Thomas of, 267, 

365 
Canterbury Weavers, 378, 381 
Carlo Dolci, 150, 239 
Caroline, Queen. 310 
Carpenter's Court, 282 
Carracci, Annibale, 240 
Cartwright Collection, 240, 243 
Cartwright, William, 240 
Castle, Canterbury, 380 



392 



Index 



Castle, Chipping Ongar, 296 

Castle, Colchester, 256-260 

Castle, King Cole's 255 

Castle Park, 256 

Castle, Rochester, 36, 48-54, 97 

Castle, Upnor, 54 

Castle, Vanbrugh, 315 

Castle, Windsor, 145, 146, 150 

Caswallon, 252 

Cathedral, Canterbury, 359-371, 

376 
Cathedral, Ely, 105-115, 163 
Cathedral, Rochester, 44-48, 

106, 108, 110 
Cathedral, St. Albans, 165-169, 

180 
Cathedral, Wells, 215 
Catherine of Aragon, 310, 314, 

319, 320, 349, 378 
Cave, Dick Turpin's, 213 
Cellini, Benvenuto, 150 
Chancery, 230 
Chapel, St. George's, 146 
Charlemagne, 88 
Charles I, 29, 73, 145, 275, 280, 

344, 348, 353 
Charles II, 55, 314, 322, 323, 324, 

325 
Charles V of Spain, 319, 368 
Charlotte, Princess, 90, 91 
Charlotte, Queen, 69 
Charter House, 3, 328 
Chatham, 36, 37, 38, 39, 43, 55, 

312 
Chatham Chest, 326, 331 
Chaucer, Geoffrey, 72, 128, 156, 

357, 384 
Chelsea, 267, 324 
Chelsea Embankment, 268 
Chelsea landing, 267, 269 
Chequers Inn, 359, 382 



Chere Reine Cross, (see Eleanor 

Cross) 
Chester, 43, 354, 381 
Chesterfield, Lord, 310, 311 
Chesterfield Walk, 311 
Chesterfieldian, 32 
Chews, tombs of, 351 
Cheyne Walk, 3, 268 
Chiltern Hills, 197, 200, 334 
Chingford, 203 
Chipping Ongar, 290, 291, 292, 

296 
Chiswick House, 271 
Cholmondeley Walk, 75 
Christmas Palace, 279 
Church, Brickhill, 354 
Church, Dunstable, 344, 349, 351 
Church, St. Alphege's, 376 
Church, St. Bartholomew's the 

Great, 217 
Church, St. Benet's, 120, 122. 

136 
Church, St. George's, 7 
Church, St. Giles's, 138, 140, 263, 

299 
Church, St. John's, 262 
Church, St. Martin's, 375 
Church, St. Mary's, 97, 193 
Church, St. Mary's-at-the- Walls, 

255 
Church, St. Mary the Less, 120 
Church, St. Michael's, 174, 175, 

176 
Church, St. Mildred's, 377, 381 
Church, St. Pancras's, 373, 376 
Church, St. Sepulchre's, 132 
Church, St. Stephen's, 176 
Church, Trinity, 260 
Cinque Ports, 265 
Clapham, 248 
Clare Bridge, 124 



Index 



393 



Clare College, 124 

Claremont, 90, 93 

Clarence Inn, 276 

Claude, 150, 239 

Claudius, 252, 255 

Claudius, Temple of, 253 

Claypole, Mrs., 281 

Cleves, Anne of, 53, 73, 332 

Clive, Lord, 90 

Cliveden, 202 

Cloister Court, 124, 126 

Clouet, 135 

Cluniac Priory, 222 

Cobham. 83, 93, 94, 99 

Cobham, Henry de, 50 

Cock Inn, 312 

Code, Forest, 205 

Coel (see "Cole") 

Coilus, (see "Cole") 

Coke, Sir Edward, 139 

Colchester, 205, 210. 237, 255, 
245-267 

Colchester Castle, 251, 256-260 

Colchester oysters, 264 

Cole, King, 250 

Cole's, St. Mary, 265, 

Coleridge, 128 

Colet, Dean, 370, 385 

"Colking's Palace," 251 

College, Caius, 128, 132 

College, Christ, 130 

College, Clare, 124 

College, Corpus Christi, 117 

College, Dulwich, 224, 228-232, 
237, 239, 242 

College, Eton, 144 

College of God's Gift, (see Dul- 
wich College) 

College Road, 243 

College, Jesus, 132 

College, King's, 121, 144 



College, Magdalen, 128 
College, Missionary, 371 
College, Pembroke, 118 
College, Queens', 123 
College, Royal Naval, 327 
College, St. Catherine's, 123 
College, St. John's, 129, 144 
College, St. Peter's, 119, 133 
College, Trinity, 125, 128 
Colman, Sir Jeremiah, 245 
Colne, River, 31, 265 
Columbus, 260 
Commonwealth, The, 73 
Connaught Water, 206 
Conquest, Norman, 80, 138 
Conrad, Choir of, 360 
Constable, 18, 355 
Constantine the Great, 250 
Constantius, 250, 255 
Cookham, 201 
Cookham Lock, 201 
"Copper Horse," the, 157 
Cornwall, Richard Earl of, 29 
Corpus Christi College, 117 
Cottages, St Michael's, 178 
Cottage, Farm, 294 
Covent Garden, 32, 98 
Correggio, 278 
Cranmer, Archbishop, 128, 319, 

349 
Cratendune, 108, 122 
Crecy, 59, 361, 363 
Crimea, 384 

Cromwell, Elizabeth, 281 
Cromwell, Oliver, 112, 113, 115, 

127, 128, 255, 257, 259, 263, 

281 
Cromwell, Richard, 219 
Cromwell, Thomas, 261, 270, 

281, 320, 321 
Crown Inn, 49, 54 



394 



Index 



Croxted Lane, 241 
Crystal Palace, 243, 244-247 
Cuijp, 239 
Curfew Tower, 147 
Cymbeline, 252 

D 

Da Forli, 150 
Dane John, 379, 380 
Danes, the, 52, 109, 126, 127, 
165, 197, 208, 253, 274, 286, 
287, 288, 335, 376 

DanesBeld, 197 

Dark Entry, 371 

Datchet Mead, 30 

Dekker, 225 

Denmark, Anne of, 280, 322 

Denning. S. P., 239 

Derbyshire, 140 

Derbyshire, Mr., 343 

De Ruyter, 37 

Derwentwater, Earl of, 326 

Desenfans, 238, 239, 241 

Devil's Tower, 152 

Devonshire, Georgiana Duchess 
of, 275 

Dickens, Chas., 30, 46, 55 

Dick Turpin, 212, 213 

Dick Turpin's Cave, 213 

Diocletian, 160 

Disraeli, 317 

Domesday Book, (Survey), 123, 
138, 200 

Dorchester House, 201 

Dorothy Vernon, 140, 141 

Downs, 79, 99, 336, 352 

Dover, 43, 53, 312, 334, 353, 368, 
380 

Dry den, 128 

Dudley, Robert, Earl of Leices- 
ter, 69 



Dulwich, (Dilewich, Dilwysshe), 

221-243 
Dulwich Art Gallery, 238, 239, 

240, 241, 242, 243 
Dulwich College, 224, 227, 228, 

232, 237, 239, 242 
Dulwich Manor, 227 
Dulwich Park, 237, 243 
Du Maurier, Geo., 23 
Dun, or Dunninge, 335-343 
Dunum, 835 
Dungeons, 50, 256 
Dunstable, 174, 334-353 
Dunstable Church, 344 
Dunstan, 287, 361 
Durobrivse, 52 
Dutch House, 69 
Dvorak, 68 
Dysart, Earl of, 275 



Eadmund, St., 250, 284-289, 293 

308, 365 
East Anglia, 108, 122, 249, 284, 

287 
Eastgate House, 55 
Ebbe's Fleet, 374 
Edelinck, 135 
Edgar, 109 
Edgware Road, 15 
Edward L 71, 348 
Edward IL 170, 171 
Edward III, 22, 29, 72, 145, 156, 

171 
Edward IV, 53, 125, 145, 146, 318 
Edward VL 166, 272, 281 
Edward VII, 219 
Edward the Black Prince, 361, 

362, 363, 364, 365 
Edward the Confessor, 80, 145, 

170, 205, 215 



Index 



395 



Eel Pie Island. 76, 276 

Egfrid, 108 

Eleanor of Cobham, Duchess of 

Gloucester, 304, 305, 307 
Eleanor of Provence, 348 
Eleanor, (Chere Reine) 352 
Eleanor Cross, 218, 352 
Elephant and Castle Inn, 299 
Elizabeth, Hunting Lodge of 

Queen, 204, 205, 207 
Elizabeth, Queen. 29. 37, 67, 71, 

73, 74, 75, 128, 139, 206, 223. 

278, 280, 315, 318. 326, 350, 

370 
Elstree, 160 
Ely, 102, 103, 105-115, 132, 163, 

170, 308, 365, 381 
Ely Cathedral, 122, 163 
Ely, Isle of, 108, 109, 127 
Emerson, 175 
Epitaphs, 110, 111, 168, 169. 

235, 264 
Epping Forest, 203-213, 289, 

301 
Epping Thicks, 211 
Epping, Town of, 213 
Erasmus, 370, 385, 386 
Erasmus Court, 123 
Erasmus Tower, 123 
Ernulph,261 
Esher, 89, 90, 147. 276 
Esher Place, 73, 91 
Essex, 215, 249 
Essex Forest, 170, 205, 208, 209, 

212, 219, 220, 294 
Essex, Earl of, 128, 348 
Ethelbert, 162, 163, 373-376 
Etheldreda, St., 108, 109, 114, 

163, 365, 381 
Ethelred, King of Mercia, 52 
Ethelred II., 80 



Ethelwald, 79, 80. 96 
Eton, 30, 143, 144, 148, 193 
Evelyn, 242, 251. 326 
Eudo. 262, 263 



Fair Mile, 93 

Fairfax, 255 

Falconer, Lord, 281 

Falstaff, 30 

Falstaff Inn, 382 

Farm Cottage, 294 

Fawkes de Brent. 346, 347 

Fawke's Hall (Vauxhall), 365 

Fayrey,Henry and Agnes, 345 

Fenny Stratford, 350-356 

Field, 232, 240 

Fife, Earl of, 153 

Fighting Cocks Inn, 179 

Fish Court, 282 

Flamsteed, 324, 325 

Florence, William of, 98 

Foote, 241 

Forest Court, 204 

Forest, Father, 320, 321 

Formosa Island, 202 

Fortescue. John. 141 

Fortune Theatre, 226 

Fortuny, 193 

Fountain Court, 278 

Four Swans Inn, 218 

Fox-and-Hounds Inn, 89 

Fredric, Abbot of St. Albans, 

170 
Freeman, Prof., 110 
Friar Thomas, 108 
Friars (Grey, etc.), 377, 381 
Friars' Chapel, 321 
Froude, 163 
Fulham, 269 
Fuller, 224, 225 



396 



IndCiV 



Gad's Hill House, 55 

Gainsborough, 18, 151, 240, 278, 
355 

Garrick, David, 233 

Gate, BalkoQ, 254 

Gate, George IV's, 157 

Gate, Henry VHI's, 146 

Gate, Honour, 132 

Gate, Humility. 132 

Gate, King's, 125 

Gate, Lion, 10 

Gate, Monastery, 218 

Gate of St. George, 308 

Gate, Trophy, 277, 282 

Gate, Virtue, 132 

Gate, West, 358 

Gaunt, John of, 362 

Gaveston, Piers, 170 

George I, 75 

George II. 77, 326 

George III, 30, 69, 75 

George IV, 90, 157. 310 

Georgiana, Duchess of Devon- 
shire, 275 

Gibbons, Grinling, 151 

Gillingham, 52 

Gimmett, 49 

Giorgione, 42 

Giotto, 167 

Globe Theatre, 224, 226 

"Gladstone," 316-318 

Gloucester, Eleanor, Duchess of, 
304, 305. 307 

Gloucester, Humphrey, Duke of, 
302-308, 315, 318, 348 

Gloucester, Jacqueline, Duchess 
of, 303-305, 348 

Glover Island, 76 

Godebog, Coel, 250 

Godwin (Godwine), Earl, 80, 215 



Gordon, General, 46 

Gordon Hotel, 55 

Gorhambury House, 175 

Gray, Dorothy, 138 

Gray, Thomas, 120, 137-142 

Great Court, 126 

Great North Road, 354 

Greene, 232 

Greenstead, 290-296 

Greenwich, 227, 279, 297-333. 

349, 376 
Greenwich Hospital, 316, 325- 

333 
Greenwich Palace, 318, 319, 323- 

325-333 
Greenwich Park, 300, 310, 314, 

323, 324 
Gregory, 373, 374, 386 
Grenta, 123 
Grentebridge, 123 
Grey Hound Inn, 29 
Grey. John, 177, 178 
Grey, Lady Jane, 257, 272 
Grimthorpe, Lord, 166 
Grindcobbe. William, 171, 172 
Grosvenor Road, 268 
Guest Hall, 372 
Guido Reni, 150, 240 
Guildford, 79, 80. 81, 82. 83. 96- 

99 
Guildford Castle, 80, 97 
Guildford Coach (see Reliance) 
Guildhall, 96 
Gundulph, Bishop, 45 

H 

Haden, Sir Seymour, 8, 301 
Hainault Forest, 209 
Hainault, Isabella of, 22, 72, 209 
Hainault, Jacqueline, Countess 
of, 303-305, 348 



Index 



397 



Half -moon Lane, 236 
Halley, Edmund, 325 
Halliwell, 222 
Ham House, 275 
Hambleden Lock, 195 
Hamilton, Emma, Lady, 330 
Hammersmith, 248, 270 
Hammersmith Bridge, 82 
Hammersmith Broadway, 9 
Hampstead, 86, 160 
Hampstead Hill, 301 
Hampton Court, 8-13, 72, 89, 91, 

144, 267, 277-283, 300, 329 
Hampton Wick, 277 
Hampton Wick, Cobbler of, 277 
Hand of Glory, St. Bridget's, 51 
"Hanlegang,"(see Henley) 
Harbledown, 382-386 
Harold, King, 205, 210, 214. 215, 

216. 217, 218, 382 
Harold Hardrada, 216 
Harrow-on- the-Hill, 149 
Hastings, 52. 214, 216 
Harvey, 128 

Heglisdune (see Hill of Eagles) 
Helena, St., 250, 254. 255 
Hengist and Horsa, 374 
Henley, 30, 273, 181-195 
Henley Bridge, 184 
Henley Regatta, 185-195 
Henrietta Maria, 73, 280, 322 
Henry, Duke of Normandy, 345 
Henry I., 45, 71, 74, 145. 222, 335 

343 
Henryn.51, 266, 296,364 
Henry HL 348 

Henry IV, 29, 53, 153, 313, 361 
Henry V, 74, 154, 156, 302, 313 
Henry VI, 72,177, 302,306, 307 
Henry VII, 72, 74, 75, 260, 312, 

351 



Henry VIII, 45, 53, 72, 73, 125, 
147, 166, 198, 211. 223, 261, 
272, 279, 280, 281, 282, 310, 
314, 318, 332, 349, 368, 370, 
378 

Henry the Timid (see Henry 
VI.) 

Hentzner, 322 

Hepple white, 135 

Here ward. 110 

Heme's Oak, 149 

Heme Hill, 227, 237 

Heme the Hunter. 149 

Herringbone Masonry, 253, 259 

Hertfordshire. 166, 215 

High Beach, 203, 208, 210 

High St., 9, 44, 54, 113, 213, 
379 

Hill of Eagles, 286, 288 

Hobbema, 179, 240 

Hobbes. Thomas, 349 

Hobson, Thomas, 128 

Hobson's Choice, 128 

Holbein. 150 

Holinshed, 173, 306 

Ilolmhurst Hill, 161, 174 

Holyhead, 334 

Holy Land. 47. 254, 284 

"Holy Maid of Kent" (see 
Barton. Elizabeth) 

Home Park, 282, 283 

Hook, Theodore, 277 

Hope Theatre, 224 

Hoppner, 329 

Horse-Chestnut Sunday, 282 

Horseshoe Cloisters, 146 

Hospital. Archbishop Abbot's, 96 

Hospital, St. John's, 378 

Hotel. Abbey. 197 

Hotel. Angel. 81 

Hotel, Gordon, 55 



398 



Index 



Hotel, Lion, 99 

Hotel, Pack Horse, 32, 59 

Hotel, Royal Fountain, 358 

Hotel, Talbot, 95 

Hotel, Victoria, 81, 82, 101 

Hounslow Heath, 212 

Howard, Katherine, 272 

Hoxne, 288 

Hudson, Jeffrey, 278 

Huguenots, 269, 379 

Hume, Rev. James, 236 
Humphrey, "dining with" Duke 

315 
Humphrey, Duke of Gloucestei, 

302-308, 315, 318 
Hundred Steps. 148 
Hunstantone, 285 
Hunting Lodge. Queen Eliza- 
beth's, 204, 205. 207 
Huntingdon. 139, 140 
Huntingdon, Robin of, 212 
Hurley Lock, 198 
Hurlingham, 100 
Hurlingham Club, 8, 269 
Hyde, Alice, 347 
Hyde, Lord Alan de, 347 
Hyde Park, 3 
Hyde Park Comer, 274 
Hythe, 264 



Inn, Fighting Cocks, 179 

Inn, Four Swans, 218 

Inn. Fox-and-Hounds, 89, 277 

Inn, Grey Hound, 29 

Inn, King's Oak. 210 

Inn, Old Ship, 316 

Inn, Peahen, 165 

Inn, Red Lion, 185. 344, 354 

Inn, Star & Garter. 78, 275 

Inn, Sugar Loaf, 350 

Inn, Swan, 277, 355 

Inn, White Hart, 182 

Inn, White Lion, 94, 96 

Inness, George, 355 

Irving, Henry, 363 

Isabella of Hainault, 22, 72 
Isabella of Parma, 170 
Island. Eel Pie. 76 
Island, Formosa, 202 
Island, Glover, 76 
Island, Magna Charta, 30 
Island, Monkey, 22 
Isle of Dogs, 332 
Isle of Ely, 108, 109, 127 
Isle of Thanet, 39. 53, 374 
Isleworth, 272, 273 
Isleworth Ferry, 70 
Islington, 248 



Iceni, 210, 211 

Icknield Way, 335 

Ingoldsby Legends, 51 

Inn, Bear, 90, 91 

Inn, Bell, 105 

Inn, Chequers, 359, 382 

Inn, Clarence, 276 

Inn, Cock, 213 

Inn, Elephant and Castle, 299 

Inn, Falstaff, 382 



Jacqueline, Countess of Hain- 
ault, 303-305, 348 
James I., 53, 219. 223, 278, 322 
James II., 37, 55, 198, 276 
Janssen, 278 
Jesus College, 132 
Joan, Fair Maid of Kent, 365 
John, King, 49, 53. 127, 145, 209, 

260, 343 
Jones, Inigo, 227, 322 
Jonson, Ben, 128, 226, 232 



Index 



399 



K 

Kai-ho, 70 

Katherine, Queen, 156 
Kenningtoa Common, 87 
Kennington Park, 299 
Kensington, 82, 270, 323 
Kensington Gardens, 1 48 
Kent, 34, 44, 52, 55, 56, 171, 243, 

374 
Ketul, Ulf, 287 
Kew (Kew Gardens), 67-71, 211, 

272 
Khalifa, Flag of, 151 
Kimbolton, 350 
King Cole's Castle, 255 
King Cole's Kitchen, 253. 264 
King Edward's Tower, 126 
King John, 49, 53, 127, 145, 209, 

260, 343 
King, Tom, 212 
King William Street, 331 
King's College, 120, 121 
King's Oak, 145. 210 
King's Oak Inn, 210 
King's Parade, 121, 124 
King's School, 371 
Kingsbury Palace, 339, 343 
Kingsley, Henry, 38 
Kingston, 87, 88, 277 
Kitchener, Lord, 151 
Kneller, 151 
Knut, 215 



La Hogue, 325 

Lady Wooton's Green House, 

380 
Lambeth Palace, 313 
Lanfranc, 170, 382, 383 
Langton, Stephen, 347, 361 
Lansdowne, Marquis of, 78 



Lauderdale, Duchess of, 276 

Lawrence, Sir Thomas, 151 240 

Lea, River, 208, 210, 214, 215 

Le Bret, 367 

Lee, Sir Henry, 314 

Lee, Sir Richard, 166 

Lee, Sir Robert, 223, 227 

Lely, Sir Peter, 151, 278 

Le Notre, 323 

Leopold, 90, 91, 147 

Lewis, John. 77 

Lexden, 264 

Lincoln, bishop of, 319, 352 

Linley, Rev. Ozias Thurston, 

231, 232, 240, 241 
Linnaeus, 86 
Lion Gate, 10 
Lion Hotel, 99 
Lisle, 237, 257, 263 
Lodbrog, Ragnar, 286 
Lollards, 351 
Lombards, 88 
London, bishop of, 319 
London Bridge, 266, 267 
London Road, 311 
London Stone, 170 
Long Walk, 157 
Lord Mayor's Drive, 142 
Lord's (cricket ground), 5 
Louis, Dauphin of France, 53 
Louis Vn. of France, 367 
Lower Green, 91 
Lucas, 237, 257, 263, 264 
Luncheon basket, 103, 104 
Lydgate, 306 

M 

Macaulay, Lord, 90, 328 
Maes Gwyn, 334 
Magdalene College, 128 
Magna Charta, 164, 266, 274 



400 



Indecc 



Magna Charta Island, 30 
Maid of Honor's Garden, 154, 

156 
Maidenhead, 18-21, 26, 29, 182, 

199 
Maidenhead Bridge, 29 
Maiden's Tower, 152 
Maids of Honor Row, 75 
Mandeville, Geoffrey de, 198 
Mandubratius, 252 
Manor of Pleasaunce, 321 
Mansfield, Richard, 302 
Mansion House, 103, 289 291 
Manuel, Emperor of Constanti- 
nople, 312 
Margate steamer, 297, 298 
Margaret of Anjou, 177 
Margaret, Queen, 307 
Market, 98, 116, 164, 213, 351, 

379 
Marlow, 200 
Marlowe, Kit, 232 
"Martyrdom," the, 363, 364 
Mary, bower of Queen, 1 1 
Mary, Princess, 147, 370 
Mary, Queen, 30, 73, 257, 280, 

318, 325, 328 
Mary Queen of Scots, 73 
Maske performed at Greenwich 

Palace, 318 
Masonry, herringbone, 253 
Master of Fox Hounds, 100 
Masters, Richard, 377, 378 
Maud, Empress, 114 
Mayfair, 4, 248 
Maze, Hampton Court, 12 
Medmenham Abbey, 197 
Medway, River, 36, 38, 39, 48, 52 
Mercia, 29, 160 
Mendelssohn, 68 
Mercury Lane, 359, 381 



Mews, Royal, 157 

Middlesex, 228 

Millais, Sir John E., 144 

Milton, 128, 129 

Miraflores, or Mirefleur, 303 

Molyns, Sir John de, 140 

Monastery Gateway, 218 

Monkey Island, 22 

Montacute, 216 

Montacute, William, Earl of 

Salisbury, 198 
Montague House, 310, 311 
Moore, Sir J., 324 
Morality acted at Greenwich 

Palace, 319 
More, Sir Thomas, 378 
Mortimer, 171, 312 
Mortlake, 270 
Mozart, 68 
Murillo, 239 
Murray, William, 276 
Museum, Colchester Castle, 258, 

259 
Museum, Fitzwilliam, 119 
Museum, Queen Elizabeth's 

Hunting Lodge, 204 
Mytens, 278 

N 
Najara, 361 
Naseby, 344, 348 
Nash, 225 

Nelson, Lord, 329, 330 
Newton, Sir Isaac, 128, 325 
Norfolk, Duke of, 91, 314 
Norman Conquest (see Conquest) 
Normans. 25, 44, 49, 52, 80, 98, 
104, 106, 113, 132, 165, 167, 
198, 214, 216, 253, 261, 351, 
371 
Northcote, 241 



Index 



401 



Norwood, 221, 237, 243, 244 
Northumberland, 272 

O 

Observants, 320, 378 
Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, 52 
Offa, King of East Anglia, 160, 

162, 163, 250, 284, 285 
Old Crome, 355 
"Old King Cole," 250 
Old Ship Tavern, 316 
Olympia, 100, 158 
Ongar (see Chipping Ongar) 
Orange, Prince of, 195 
Orleans House, 276 
Ouse, River, 114 
Ovinus, 109 

Oxford "Divinity School," 305 
Oxford Street, 15 
Oxford University, 305 



Pack Horse Hotel, 32, 59 

Paddington, 2, 15, 181 

Painted Hall, 329 

Palace Gardens, 296 

Pall, the Crimson, 345, 346 

Palma Vecchio, 119, 279 

Paris Garden, 226 

Paris, Matthew, 164 

Park, Greenwich, 300, 310, 314 

Park, Old Deer, 70 

Parnell, James, 257 

Payne, Tom, 155 

Peahen Inn, 165 

Peckham, 300 

Peele, 232 

Pembroke College, 118 

Pepys, 128, 323 

Pepys, Mary, 237 

Penn, John, 140 



Penn, Thomas, 139 
Penn, William, 139 

Perth, William of, 275 

Peter, Chaplain, 266 

Peterhouse (see St. Peter's Col- 
lege) 

Petersham Meadows, 275 

Peto, Father, 321, 328 

Pevensey, 217 

Philip of Spain, 280 

Philippa, Queen, 22, 72, 156 

Philippe, Louis, 90, 276 

Phyllis Court, 185, 186, 189, 
191, 192, 193, 194, 195 

Piccadilly, 5, 10, 82, 100, 267 

Piers Gaveston.. 170 

Pitt, William, 86, 128 

Placentia, Palace of, 303, 318, 326 

Poitiers, 361 

Pope, 315 

Poplars, legend of, 24 

Port George, 285 

Princess Amelia, 77 

Prior's Gateway, 371 

Priory, Carthusian, 75 

Priory of St. Andrew, 50, 54 

Priory, St. Botolph, 253, 261 

Priory of St. Peter, 343 

Priory of Sheen, 74 

Protector, see Cromwell 

Puritans, the, 45 

Putney, 86, 270 

Putney Bridge, 269 

Putney Heath, 86 

Putney Hill, 86 

Q 

Quarry Hall, 200 
Quarry Wood, 200 
Queen Elizabeth's Hunting 
Lodge, 204, 205, 207 



402 



Index 



Queenhythe, 224 
Queens' College, 123 
Queen's House, 32!^, 324. 327 
Queen's Oak, 208, 210 
Qucntin Matsys, 146 

R 

Rainham. 35-43, 52 

Rainham Vicarage, 40, 41, 42 

Raleigh, 322 

Ranelagh Club, 8, 270 

Ranger's House, 310, 315 

Raphael, 239 

Redcliffe Gardens, 4 

Red Lion Inn, 185, 344, 354 

Reformation, 2G0. 370, 372 

Regale of France, 368, 370 

Regent St., 10 

"Reliance" Coach, 81, 82, 96, 

98, 100, 158, 277 
Rembrandt. 119, 150, 199, 239 
Restoration, 281, 314 
Restoration House, 55 
Reynolds. Sir Joshua, 78. 239,278 
Rhododendron Dell. 70 
Richard, King of Germany, 348 
Richard, I, 206, 361 
Richard H, 29, 71, 128, 173 
Richard HI, 128 
Richmond, 8, 70-78, 275, 314 
Richmond Bridge, 76 
Richmond Palace, 73 
Richmond Park. 77 
Richmond Terrace, 78 
Ridley, 128 
Ripley, 95 

Robert of Normandy, 52 
Robin Hood, 12, 139, 143, 212 
Rochester, 36, 37, 44-56, 97, 106, 

110,262,276,332 
Rochester Castle, 36, 48-54, 97 



Rochester Cathedral, 45, 106, 

108, 110 
Roehampton, 84 
Roman bricks, 166, 253, 375 
Roman relics, 113, 114, 257 
Roman Road, 93, 114, 169, 294, 

334, 353, 355 
Roman station, 80, 160, 173,251 
Roman Villa, 315 
Roman Wall, 174, 253 
Romano, Giulio, 236 
Romans, 50, 173, 208, 210. 211, 

251, 253, 258, 334, 335, 354 
Romans, bridge of, 50 
Romney, 231 
Roscius, 225 
Rose Theatre, 223 
Rothsay, 153 
Rotten Row, 3 
Round Church, 132 
Round Tower, 152 
Row, Maids of Honor, 75 
Royal Ascot, 57-66, 157, 158 
Royal Chapel, 320, 321 
Royal Enclosure, 61, 63 
Royal Engineers, 39, 46 
Royal Forest of Essex, 209 
Royal Forest of Waltham, 209 
Royal Fountain Hotel, 358 
Royal Mews, the, 157 
Royal Naval College, 327 
Royal Oak, 27 
Royal Observatory, 303 
Rubens, 149, 240 
Ruijsdael, 240 
Runnymede, 31, 145 
Ruskin, 135, 175 



"Sabrina's Stream," 31 
Sanguelac (see Hastings) 



Index 



403 



Salisbury, Earl of, 177 
Salisbury, William Montacute, 

Earl of, 198 
Savonarola, 260 
Saxons, 25, 52, 88, 110, 120, 127, 

138, 165, 208, 215, 253, 262, 

285, 373, 374, 375 
Saxon church, 109, 29G 
Saxon doorway, 260, 375 
St. Albans, 72, 164, 165, 170-173 
St. Alban's Abbey, 160, 163-180, 

263, 306, 307, 347, 348, 349 
St. Alban's Cathedral, 165, 180 
St. Alphege's. 376 
St. Andrew, Convent of, 373, 374 
St. Andrew, Priory of, 50 
St. Anne de Beaupre, 108 
St. Augustine, 108. 122, 371-370 
St. Augustine's Abbey, 372. 376 
St. Awdrey (see Etheldreda) 
St. Bartholomew's the Great, 3^ 

217 
St. Benet's Church, 120, 122, 136 
St. Botolph*s Priory, 261 
St. Botolph's without Bishops- 
gate, 227, 228 
St. Bridget, 51 
St. Catherine's College, 123 
St. Catherine's Hall, 99 
St. Edmund (see Eadmund) 
St. Edmundsbury, 260, 286, 288 
St. Ethelbert's Tower, 372 
St. Etheldreda (see Etheldreda) 
St. George, Chapel of, 145 
St. George's Church, 7 
St. George, Gate of, 368 
St. George's Hall, 150 
St. Giles (Camberwell), 228 
St. Giles (without Cripplegate), 

299 
St. Giles's Church, 138, 140, 263 



St. John, 345 

St. John's Abbey, 263, 264 

St. John's Church, 262 

St. John's College, 129, 144 

St. John, fraternity of, 344, 347 

St. John's Green, 262 

St. John's Hospital, 378 

St. John's Street, 135 

St. Mary Cole's, 266 

St. Mary's Church, 97, 193 

St. Mary-the-Less, Church of,120 

St. Mary Magdalen, Church of, 

377 
St. Mary 's-at-the- Walls, 255 
St. Martin's Church, 375 
St. Michael's Church, 174, 175, 

176 
St. Michael, order of, 31!) 
St. Mildred's Church, 377, 381 
St. Nicholas almhouses, 383 
St. Pancras's Church 373, 376 
St. Pancras (Station), 159 
St. Paul's, 10, 221, 307 
St. Paul's School, 318 
St. Peter-in-Chains, 339 
St. Peter's College, 119, 133 
St. Peter, Priory of, 343 
St. Savior's, 228 
St. Sepulchre's Church, 132 
St. Sepulchre, nunnery of, 377 
St. Stephen's Church, 176 
St. Thomas a Becket, 267, 360- 

369, 381 
"St. Thomas's Crown," 371 
St. Ursula, 251 

Schene or Sheen, 71, 72, 75 
Schene, Palace of, 72 
Sheen, Priory of, 74 
Scheregate Steps, 253, 260 
School of Naval Architecture, 

327 



404 



Index 



Scotland Yard, 213 

Scott, Sir Gilbert, 46, 106, 146 

Scott, Sir Walter, 76, 295, 347 

Senate House, 129 

Senior Wrangler, 129, 131, 133. 

134 
Seymour, Jane, 147, 281 
Sexburgii, 109 
Shakspeare, 175, 184, 224, 225, 

232, 234, 280, 305, 306, 308 
Sheerness, 37 
Shelley, 200 
Sheridan, Mrs., 241 
Sherwood Forest, 142,212 
Siddons, Mrs., 239 
Sigebert, 123 
Sigismund, 313 
"Signs," 382 
Simeon, Abbot, 110 
Simon de Montfort, 348 
Sion (Syon), 74 
Sion Abbey. 272 
Sion House, 272, 321 
Skelton, 235, 280 
Slough, 140 
Sly, 232 
Smithfield, 3 
Snow Hill, 157 
Somerset, Duke of, 177 
Somerset House, 268 
Somerset, Jane, 155, 156, 302 
Sop well Nunnery, 179 
Spenser, 119, 128. 129 
Staines, 28, 31, 32, 59 
Standard, Essex County, 254 
Stanislaus, King of Poland, 238, 

239, 241 
Stanley, Dean, 385 
Staple, 335 

Star and Garter Inn, 78, 275 
Station, Bishopsgate, 289 



Station, High Level, 244 
Station, Liverpool Street, 289 
Station, Low Level, 247 
Station, Mansion House, 103, 

289, 291 
Station, Paddington, 2, 15, 18 
Station, Roman, 80, 160, 173, 251 
Station, St. Pancras, 159 
Station, Victoria. 222 
Stephen. Abbot of York, 263 
Stephen, King, 114, 343 
Stepney. 248 
Stewart, James, 152, 153, 154, 

155, 150. .302 
Stoches, Wm., 139 
Stoke Common, 142 
Stoke D'Abcrnon, 94 
Stoke Park, 139. 142, 149 
Stoke Poges, 120, 137-142 
Stour, River, 374, 379, 381 
Strand, the, 219 
Strand-on-the-Green, 271 
Strut ford-atte-bow, 292 
Strawberry Hill, 276 
Stream of Pleasure, 181, 271 
Sudbury, Archbishop Simon of, 

362, 379 
Suetonius, 165, 210, 354 
Suffolk, 346 
Suffolk, Duke of, 307 
Sugar Loaf Inn, 350 
Surbiton, 88, 89 
Surrey. 79, 85, 90, 99, 151, 222, 

268 
Surrey, Duke of, 29 
Swan Inn, 277, 355 
Swan Theatre, 224 
"Sweet Kate," 155, 302 
Sweyn, 288 
Swift, 315 
Sydenham, 243 



Index 



405 



Sydenham Hill, 227 
Sydnam Wells, 242 
Syences, 71 
Syon House (see Sion House) 



Talbot Hotel, 95 

Taplow, 29, 30 

Taplow Wood, 21 

Taylor, Ann, 263 

Taylor, Jane, 263 

Taylor, Jeremy, 128 

Taylor, "the water poet," 224 

Temple, the, 3, 135, 268. 328 

Temple Bar, 218, 219 

Temple House, 199 

Temple Lock, 199 

Teniers, 239 

Tennyson, 363 

Terrace Gardens, 76 

Thames Ditton, 277 

Thames, River, 8, 18-33, 59, 73, 
76, 88, 144, 148, 181, 195-202, 
205, 223, 265, 266-277, 282, 
301, 303, 316, 320, 330 

Thanet, Isle of, 39, 53, 374 

Thanet, lord of, 42 

Thetford, 287, 288 

Theobald's Park, 219, 220 

Thomas, Friar, 108, 222 

Thompson, the one-eyed gunner, 
255 

Thornhill, Sir James, 328 

Tickell, Mrs., 241 

Tilsworth, William, 351 

Titian, 119, 150 

Tonbert, 108 

Touraine, Duke of, 303 

Tovy or Tofig, 215. 216 

Tower, the, 3, 133, 146, 147, 319 

Tower, Bell Harry, 371 



Tower Hill, 262 

Tower, St. Ethelbert's, 372 

Trafalgar, 330 

Triposes, 133 

Trinity Church, 260 

Trinity College, 123, 128 

Trinity Street, 124 

Trooping of the Colors, 7 

Trophy Gate, 277, 282 

Trumpington Street, 124 

Tschaikowsky, 68 

Tupper, Martin, 70 

Turner, 268, 301 

Turpin, Dick, 212, 213 

Twickenham, 276, 314 

Twickenham Ait, 76 

Twickenham Ferry, 276 

Tyburn, 3, 378 

Tyler, Wat, 171, 172, 311, 349,362 

U 
Ulsig, Abbot of St. Albans. 174, 

176 
Fpnor Castle. 38, 54 
" Uranienborg," 324 



Vanbrugh "Castle," 315 

Vanbrugh, Sir John, 315, 316 

Van der Werff, 240 

Van Dyck, 73, 150. 151, 239 

Van Ghent, 37 

Vauxhall, 365 

Velasquez, 239 

Ver. river, 161, 173, 174, 178 

Vernon, Dorothy, 140, 141 

Vernon, Roger, 141 

Veronese, 119 

Vcrulam, 160, 161, 173 

Verulam, Lord, (see Bacon) 

Verulamiuni, 160 



40G 



Index 



Victoria Hotel, 81. 82, 101 

Victoria, Queen, G9, 91, 1.50, 
208, 210, 219, 239, 350 

Victoria, (Station), 222 

Villiers, George, (see Bucking- 
ham, Duke of) 

Vines Recreation Ground, 54 

W 

Wales, Prince of (see Edward, 

the Black Prince) 
W'alHnpford, Richard of, 171 
Walloons, 379 

Walpole. Horace. 242, 27G, 314 
Walsintjliam. Alan dc, 107 
Walter, Hubert, 301 
Wallhain Abbey. 213-217 
Walthain Blacks, 213 
Walthani Cross, 218 
Waltham, Royal Forest of. 209 
Wall ham Waste. 212 
Walton. Izaac, 214, .377 
Wandsworth. 209 
Wardens. 209 

Warhara, Archbishop, 368, 377 
Warwick. Earl of, 177 
Washington. George, tablets of 

family of, 120 
Waterloo, 87 
Waterloo Station, 283 
Waterloo Tree, 258 
Watling Street, the, 43, 47, 53, 

160. 170. 174. 311, 314, .335, 

350. 368, 376, 
Watt's Charity House, 55 
Wayneflete, William of. 91 
Wealdham, (Waltham), 215 
Weavers, Canterbury, 378, 381 
Weldon, Sir Anthony, 53 
Weldon, Walker, 49, 53, 242. 258 
Weller, Sam. 42 



Wells, Bishop of, 319 

Wells Cathedral, 215 

Wendover, Roger of, 164. 222 

Wesley, John. 87 

Wessex, Egbert of, 88 

West, Bishop, 112 

West Gate, .358 

Westminster Abbey, 3, 145. 151, 
198, 301, .362 

Westminster Bridge, 268 

Westminster Palace, 8, 268. 369 

Wey. river, 79. 99 

Wheely, John. 258 

Whetliampstead, 170 

Whethampslead (AbboO. 304 

Whistler. 8, 208 

White Hart Inn, 182, 193. 194 

Whit<> T,ion Inn, 94. 96 

Whitebait, 317 

Whitefield, 87 

Whitehall, 227, 280 

Wick House. 78 

Wilfrid, Bishop of York, 109 

William, the Conqueror (W'illiam 
of Normandy, — the Incendi- 
ary, — the Grabber, etc.), 52, 
80, 108, 110, 127, 145. 170, 205, 
217 

William. King, 325, 328 

William III. 2S1 

W illiam of Nassau, 198 

William of Perth, 46, 47, 275 

William Rufus, (William the 
Red, etc.), 52, 262 

William of Wykeham, 145 

Wimbledon Common, 87 

Winchester, Bishop of, 91, 319 

Windle Shore, 27 

Windsor, 8, 27, 28, 29, 31, 144, 
154, 211, 227. 272. 278. 301, 
329 



Index 



407 



Windsor Castle, 145, 146, l.'iO 

Windsor Forest, 14!), 154 

Windsor Lock, 29 

Windsor Park, 145 

Witanagemot, 88 

Woburn Abbey, MO 

Wolfe, 314 

Wolsey, Cardinal, 72, 73. 91, 219, 

261, 279, 281, 332. 368 
Wolsey 's Chapel, 148 
Wolsey 's Closet, 279 
Wolsey 's Palace, 278, 279 
"Wooden Spoon," 129, 133, 134 



Woodward, Joan, 227, 233, 236, 

242 
Wordsworth, 25, 135 
Wren, Sir Christopher, 106, 219, 

281, 326 
Wyatt, Sir Jetfry, 146 
Wyk, De la, 222 
Wykeham, William of, 362 



Yewden, 196 
York, Duke of, 177 



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